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

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 desirable. Valuable to a wide variety of tastes.

Simply put? Lucrative.

Offering yourself was legal here, to lower it to simple terms, although she didn’t recognize 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 provided to her brand-new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t only protect her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She could remove, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she viewed from a safe distance, hoping each time she ‘d brought out her dignity undamaged.

This was just short-lived, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and intended 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 rang. She pressed the door open to a long narrow corridor 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, when asked what she thought of finding there, she truthfully had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that hallway didn’t result in one.

Later on, when asked why she remained a full week once she knew what it was about, her reply came quickly:.

” For the money, naturally.”.

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

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Her first consumer, 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 really pretty.”.

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

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

In the middle of the space stood what appeared like a run-of-the-mill massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black product, with a hole at one end. But this table (in addition to all the other ones here) had one peculiar difference: 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 start with a back massage, great and simple.”.

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

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

” Yeah, that’s great.” His voice came muffled from listed below after several minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go up to my ass. Reach between my legs, do not 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 playing with me.”.

She complied with. She was proficient at following instructions. She stunned when he tapped her wrist.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look delicious. Just slide all over me, there you go.

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

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

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

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

She didn’t feel tasty; she hadn’t wanted to be. Instead, she felt absurd, self-conscious, even traitorous.

But primarily, she felt conflicted. Since she likewise understood how much power she held. This was a location where customers spent for the opportunity of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

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

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

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