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

So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old sufficient to drink, likely a university graduate (suggesting some step of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, supple, and desirable. Valuable to a wide range of tastes.

In other words? Successful.

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

This pseudonym didn’t just protect her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She might detach, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she enjoyed from a safe distance, hoping each time she ‘d come out with her self-respect undamaged.

This was only temporary, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and intended to accomplish thereafter.

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

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

The buzzer sounded. She pushed the door open to a long narrow corridor 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 promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an immediate that hallway didn’t lead to one.

Later on, when asked why she remained a full week once she understood what it was about, her reply came easily:.

” For the cash, obviously.”.

Annika made over $7,500 in eight days. And she didn’t even have to fuck anyone.

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

” You look nice,” he stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is actually quite.”.

She shivered under the blast of air conditioning, shivering in her four-inch heels, however possibly it was something else. “Thank you.”.

” So, let’s get going? Do not worry, I’ll walk you through it.”.

In the middle of the space stood what appeared like a run-of-the-mill massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black material, with a hole at one end. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar difference: a second hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.

” Grab a few of the oil. Warm it in between your hands. We’ll begin with a back massage, great and simple.”.

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 could do this. She knew how to provide a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s good.” His voice came stifled from below after several minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, don’t be shy. Gradually. Yes, easily …”.

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

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

She obeyed. She was good at following instructions. When he tapped her wrist, she surprised.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look delicious. Get on the table, that’s it, do not be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Simply slide all over me, there you go. Oh, infant, that’s so sexy …”.

Her mind was blank. Annika twisted and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take control of. She currently understood how to drive a man insane. There was one thing left to find out.

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb back up here. Show me that lovely …” He needs to 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 just so, her back arched ever so slightly, her intimate parts on full display.

” Oh, yummy,” he purred again. “It’s a gorgeous view, sweetie. Keep going.”.

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel yummy; she had not wished to be. Rather, she felt ludicrous, awkward, even traitorous. A toy for males with non reusable income under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.

Mainly, she felt conflicted. Because she also understood how much power she held. This was a location where customers paid for the advantage of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger.

” That’s a great woman. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving quicker.

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

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