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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the realm of personal services, however they told her she could and should pass for younger.

So, that week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old enough to consume, likely a university graduate (indicating some procedure of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, flexible, and desirable. Valuable to a vast array of tastes.

Simply put? Rewarding.

Selling yourself was legal here, to reduce 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 become a product called Annika *, the name she provided to her new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t just safeguard her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She could detach, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe range, hoping each time she ‘d come out with her dignity intact.

This was just temporary, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and hoped 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 ad?”.

The buzzer sounded. She pressed the door available to a long narrow corridor lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the right wall, closed doors lined the left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later on, when asked what she thought of discovering there, she truthfully had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that hallway didn’t result in one.

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

” For the cash, obviously.”.

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

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

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

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

” So, let’s get started? Do not stress, I’ll stroll you through it.”.

In the middle of the room 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 (in addition to all the other ones here) had one strange distinction: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She followed. She was good at following instructions. When he tapped her wrist, she stunned.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look tasty. Get on the table, that’s it, don’t be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Just slide all over me, there you go. Oh, child, that’s so hot …”.

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

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb up back up here. Program me that gorgeous …” He must have seen the look on her face, due to the fact that he included, “Don’t stress, I will not 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, tasty,” he purred once again. “It’s a gorgeous view, sweetheart. Keep going.”.

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel tasty; she hadn’t wished to be. Rather, she felt outrageous, self-conscious, even traitorous. A plaything for men with non reusable earnings under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.

Mainly, she felt conflicted. Due to the fact that she likewise recognized how much power she held. This was a location where customers paid for the privilege of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger.

” That’s an excellent lady. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving quicker.

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

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