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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first job in the world of individual services, but they told her she might and need to pass for younger.

That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old sufficient to drink, likely a university graduate (indicating some measure of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, flexible, and preferable. Valuable to a vast array of tastes.

Simply put? Lucrative.

Selling 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 walked in. She didn’t understand she ‘d end up being a product called Annika *, the name she gave to her new work personality.

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 viewed from a safe range, hoping each time she had actually come out with her self-respect undamaged.

This was only short-lived, she informed herself. This didn’t specify 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 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 up to a long narrow corridor lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the ideal wall, closed doors lined the left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later on, when asked what she thought of finding there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that hallway didn’t lead to one.

Later, when asked why she stayed a full week once she knew what it had to do with, her reply came quickly:.

” For the money, of course.”.

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

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Her first client, a white male in his 40s, provided some much-needed on-the-job training.

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

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 get going? Do not stress, I’ll stroll you through it.”.

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

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

He removed his clothes, all of it, and laid face down on the table.

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

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

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He stiffened to full mast at the really 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 instructions. 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 delicious. Get on the table, that’s it, do not hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Simply slide all over me, there you go. Oh, child, that’s so attractive …”.

Annika moved and squirmed, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. There was one thing left to learn.

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

Dealing with toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so a little, her intimate parts on complete display.

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

She didn’t feel tasty; she had not desired to be. Rather, she felt absurd, awkward, even traitorous.

However mainly, she felt contrasted. Since she also realized how much power she held. This was a place where customers paid for the privilege of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

” That’s a great girl. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving faster.

He gripped her thighs and released 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 persuade her to accept the next walk-in.