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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first job in the realm of individual services, but they informed her she could and should pass for more youthful.

That week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old sufficient to consume, likely a university graduate (suggesting some measure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, flexible, and preferable. Marketable to a large range of tastes.

To put it simply? Successful.

Offering yourself was legal here, to lower it to easy terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she walked in. She didn’t know she ‘d end up being a product named Annika *, the name she offered to her brand-new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t just safeguard her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She could separate, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe range, praying each time she had actually brought out her self-respect undamaged.

This was just short-lived, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and intended to achieve afterwards.

On a cool September night in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pushed the call button next to an unmarked metal door. A female voice crackled through the speaker: “Hello.”.

” Hi, I’m here for the interview? From the Craigslist advertisement?”.

The buzzer rang. She pushed the door open to a long narrow hallway lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the right wall, closed doors lined the. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later on, when asked what she pictured discovering there, she truthfully had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an immediate that corridor didn’t result in one.

Later, when asked why she remained a complete week once she knew what it had to do with, her reply came easily:.

” For the cash, of course.”.

Annika made over $7,500 in 8 days. And she didn’t even need to fuck anybody.

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Her very first customer, a white male in his 40s, offered some much-needed on-the-job training.

” You look nice,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is really pretty.”.

She shivered under the blast of a/c, shivering in her four-inch heels, however maybe it was something else. “Thank you.”.

” So, let’s begin? Don’t stress, I’ll stroll you through it.”.

In the middle of the space stood what looked like a run-of-the-mill massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black material, with a hole at one end. But this table (together with all the other ones here) had one strange distinction: a second hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.

” Grab some of the oil. Warm it between your hands. We’ll start with a back massage, simple and good.”.

He eliminated his clothing, all of it, and laid face down on the table.

Annika put her hands gingerly on his shoulders and took a deep breath. She might do this. She knew how to provide a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s great.” His voice came smothered from below after several minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, don’t be shy. Slowly. Yes, easily …”.

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He stiffened to complete mast at the extremely first brush of her fingertips.

” Oh, that’s best. I’m going to turn around now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.

She followed. She was proficient at following instructions. She stunned when he tapped her wrist.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look yummy. Just slide all over me, there you go.

Annika moved and twisted, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. There was one thing left to find out.

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb back up here. Program me that lovely …” He should have seen the look on her face, because he included, “Don’t fret, I won’t touch you there.”.

Dealing with towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so somewhat, her intimate parts on full display screen.

” Oh, delicious,” he purred once again. “It’s a gorgeous view, sweetheart. Keep going.”.

She didn’t feel tasty; she hadn’t desired to be. Rather, she felt ridiculous, uncomfortable, even traitorous.

But mostly, she felt conflicted. Since she likewise recognized how much power she held. This was a place where clients paid for the privilege of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger.

” That’s a great lady. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving faster.

He grasped her thighs and released with one last sigh. And it was over.

At the end of those 45 minutes, she had $110 money in her hand. It sufficed to convince her to accept the next walk-in.