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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 might and must 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 (showing some measure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, supple, and preferable. Valuable to a large range of tastes.

Simply put? Rewarding.

Offering yourself was legal here, to minimize it to simple terms, although she didn’t understand that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she strolled in. She didn’t understand she ‘d end up being an item called Annika *, the name she gave to her brand-new work personality.

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

This was just short-term, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and hoped to accomplish afterwards.

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 pressed 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, 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 known in an immediate that corridor didn’t cause one.

Later, when asked why she stayed 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 need 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 great,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is really pretty.”.

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

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

In the middle of the space stood what looked like an ordinary 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 distinction: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.

” Grab some of the oil. Warm it between your hands. We’ll start with a back massage, good 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 understood how to offer a back massage, no problem.

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

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He stiffened to full mast at the very 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 complied with. She was good at following directions. She startled when he tapped her wrist.

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

Her mind was blank. Annika slid and twisted, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take control of. She already knew how to drive a man crazy. However there was one thing delegated discover.

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

Facing toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so slightly, her intimate parts on complete display.

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel tasty; she had not wished to be. Rather, she felt outrageous, uncomfortable, even traitorous. A toy for guys with disposable earnings under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.

However mainly, she felt clashed. Due to the fact that she also realized how much power she held. This was a place where consumers spent for the advantage of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.

” That’s a great woman. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving much 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 cash in her hand. It was enough to persuade her to accept the next walk-in.