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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the world of individual services, but they told her she might and ought to pass for younger.
So, that week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old adequate to consume, likely a university graduate (indicating some measure of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, supple, and preferable. Valuable to a vast array of tastes.
In other words? Successful.
Offering yourself was legal here, to reduce it to easy terms, although she didn’t recognize that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she strolled in. She didn’t know she ‘d become a product named Annika *, the name she gave to her new work personality.
This pseudonym didn’t just protect her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She might detach, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she viewed from a safe range, praying each time she had actually come out with her self-respect intact.
This was just short-lived, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wished to achieve thereafter.
On a cool September evening in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pressed 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 sounded. She pushed the door open to a long narrow corridor lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the best wall, closed doors lined the. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.
She did.
Later on, when asked what she imagined discovering there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an immediate that corridor didn’t lead to one.
Later on, when asked why she stayed a full week once she knew what it was about, her reply came quickly:.
” For the money, of course.”.
Annika made over $7,500 in eight days. And she didn’t even need to fuck anyone.
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Her very first customer, a white male in his 40s, offered some much-needed on-the-job training.
” You look good,” he stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is truly pretty.”.
She shivered under the blast of cooling, shivering in her four-inch heels, but maybe 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 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 strange distinction: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.
” Grab some of the oil. Warm it in between your hands. We’ll begin with a back massage, easy and good.”.
He eliminated his clothing, all of it, and laid face down on the table.
Annika placed her hands gingerly on his shoulders and took a deep breath. She could do this. She understood how to give a back massage, no problem.
” Yeah, that’s excellent.” His voice came stifled from below after a number of 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 extremely first brush of her fingertips.
” Oh, that’s best. 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 directions. 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, do not be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Just slide all over me, there you go. Oh, baby, that’s so hot …”.
Annika slid and squirmed, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. There was one thing left to discover.
” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb back up here. Program me that beautiful …” He must have seen the look on her face, because he included, “Don’t stress, 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, delicious,” he purred once again. “It’s a stunning view, sweetheart. Keep going.”.
Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she hadn’t wished to be. Rather, she felt ridiculous, uneasy, even traitorous. A toy for men with non reusable income under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.
However mostly, she felt contrasted. Because she likewise understood how much power she held. This was a place where consumers paid for the privilege 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 much faster.
He gripped her thighs and released with one final sigh. And it was over.
At the end of those 45 minutes, she had $110 money in her hand. It was enough to encourage her to accept the next walk-in.
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