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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first job in the world of personal services, however they informed her she might and must 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 step of intelligence and conversational ability), however still young, flexible, and preferable. Valuable to a wide variety of tastes.

Simply put? Successful.

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

This pseudonym didn’t just safeguard her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She might remove, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe range, hoping each time she had actually brought out her self-respect undamaged.

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

The buzzer rang. She pushed the door open up to a long narrow hallway lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the best wall, closed doors lined the left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later, when asked what she envisioned 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 complete week once she understood what it had to do with, her reply came easily:.

” For the money, 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 consumer, a white male in his 40s, offered 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, trembling in her four-inch heels, but maybe it was something else. “Thank you.”.

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

In the middle of the room stood what looked like an ordinary massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black product, with a hole at one end. However this table (together with all the other ones here) had one peculiar distinction: a second hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.

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

He removed his clothes, 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 muffled from below after numerous minutes. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, don’t be shy.

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He stiffened to full 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 proficient at following directions. When he tapped her wrist, she shocked.

” 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 hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Simply move all over me, there you go. Oh, baby, that’s so hot …”.

Her mind was blank. Annika writhed and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. She currently knew how to drive a guy crazy. But there was something left to learn.

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Program me that beautiful …” He needs to have seen the look on her face, due to the fact that he included, “Don’t worry, I won’t touch you there.”.

Facing toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward just so, her back arched ever so somewhat, her intimate parts on full display screen.

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

She didn’t feel delicious; she hadn’t desired to be. Instead, she felt outrageous, uncomfortable, even traitorous.

However mostly, she felt contrasted. Since she likewise realized how much power she held. This was a place where customers paid for the opportunity of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger.

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

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

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