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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first job in the world of individual services, however they informed her she might and should pass for younger.

So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old enough to consume, likely a university graduate (suggesting some step of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, supple, and preferable. Valuable to a wide variety of tastes.

Simply put? Successful.

Selling yourself was legal here, to lower it to easy terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she strolled in. She didn’t know she ‘d become an item named Annika *, the name she provided to her brand-new work personality.

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

This was just temporary, she told herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and intended to achieve thereafter.

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 advertisement?”.

The buzzer rang. 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 on, when asked what she imagined discovering there, she honestly had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that corridor didn’t result in one.

Later on, when asked why she remained a full week once she understood what it had to do with, her reply came easily:.

” For the cash, of course.”.

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

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

” You look great,” he stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is actually pretty.”.

She shivered under the blast of cooling, trembling in her four-inch heels, however possibly it was something else. “Thank you.”.

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

In the middle of the space 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 strange distinction: a second hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.

” Grab a few of the oil. Warm it between your hands. We’ll begin with a back massage, easy and good.”.

He removed 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 understood how to offer a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s great.” His voice came smothered from below after a number of minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, do not be shy. Gradually. Yes, just like that …”.

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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 playing with me.”.

She followed. She was proficient at following instructions. 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 yummy. Just slide all over me, there you go.

Her mind was blank. Annika twisted and slid, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. She already understood how to drive a male crazy. There was one thing left to find out.

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

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

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

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

However mostly, she felt clashed. Due to the fact that she likewise realized just how much power she held. This was a place where clients spent for the advantage of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

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

He grasped her thighs and launched 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.