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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first job in the realm of individual services, but they informed her she could and ought to pass for more youthful.

That week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old enough to consume, likely a university graduate (suggesting some step of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, supple, and desirable. Valuable to a vast array of tastes.

In other words? Successful.

Selling yourself was legal here, to reduce it to simple terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she strolled in. She didn’t know she ‘d become a product named Annika *, the name she offered to her brand-new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t just secure her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She could detach, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she enjoyed from a safe range, praying each time she had actually come out with her dignity intact.

This was only momentary, she told herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wished to achieve afterwards.

On a cool September night 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 called. She pushed the door available 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 thought of discovering there, she honestly had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an immediate that hallway didn’t result in one.

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

” For the cash, of course.”.

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

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Her 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 cooling, trembling in her four-inch heels, but maybe it was something else. “Thank you.”.

” So, let’s get started? Don’t stress, I’ll walk you through it.”.

In the middle of the room 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 (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar difference: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.

” Grab a few of the oil. Warm it 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 placed 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 excellent.” His voice came stifled from listed below after a number of minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go up to my ass. Reach between my legs, don’t be shy. Gradually. Yes, just like that …”.

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He stiffened to complete mast at the very 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 good at following directions. When he tapped her wrist, she shocked.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Remove your bra … yes … oh, you look tasty. Get on the table, that’s it, do not be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Simply slide all over me, there you go. Oh, child, that’s so attractive …”.

Her mind was blank. Annika moved and wriggled, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take control of. She currently knew how to drive a guy insane. However there was something delegated discover.

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

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

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she hadn’t wanted to be. Instead, she felt ludicrous, awkward, even traitorous. A toy for men with disposable earnings under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.

Primarily, she felt contrasted. Due to the fact that she likewise recognized how much power she held. This was a location where customers paid for the advantage of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.

” That’s a good woman. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving 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 convince her to accept the next walk-in.