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

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

To put it simply? Rewarding.

Selling yourself was legal here, to lower it to simple 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 an item named Annika *, the name she gave to her new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t only secure her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She might remove, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe distance, hoping each time she ‘d brought out her self-respect undamaged.

This was only short-lived, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wished to accomplish 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 called. She pressed the door open to a long narrow hallway lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the ideal 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 honestly had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that corridor didn’t cause one.

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

” For the cash, obviously.”.

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, supplied some much-needed on-the-job training.

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

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

” So, let’s get started? Don’t worry, 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 difference: a second hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.

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

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 give a back massage, no problem.

His voice came smothered from below after a number of minutes. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, don’t be shy.

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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. She shocked when he tapped her wrist.

” 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, don’t be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Simply slide all over me, there you go. Oh, child, that’s so attractive …”.

Annika agonized and slid, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. There was one thing left to discover.

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Program me that gorgeous …” He should have seen the look on her face, because he added, “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 slightly, her intimate parts on full screen.

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

She didn’t feel delicious; she had not desired to be. Rather, she felt ludicrous, uncomfortable, even traitorous.

Mostly, she felt contrasted. Since she also understood just how much power she held. This was a location where clients paid for the benefit of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger.

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

He gripped her thighs and launched 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 encourage her to accept the next walk-in.