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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the realm of individual services, however they told her she might and ought to pass for younger.

So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old sufficient to drink, likely a university graduate (showing some procedure of intelligence and conversational ability), however still young, supple, and desirable. Valuable to a vast array of tastes.

Simply put? Lucrative.

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 offered to her brand-new work personality.

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

This was just short-term, she told herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and intended to achieve afterwards.

On a cool September night 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 called. She pressed the door open to a long narrow corridor 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 on, when asked what she pictured finding there, she honestly had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that corridor didn’t result in one.

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

” For the money, of course.”.

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

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

” You look great,” 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 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 room stood what looked like a run-of-the-mill massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black product, with a hole at one end. But this table (together with 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 in between your hands. We’ll start with a back massage, easy and great.”.

He removed his clothing, 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 excellent.” His voice came stifled from below after several minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, don’t 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 having fun with me.”.

She obeyed. She was good at following directions. She surprised when he tapped her wrist.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look yummy. Get on the table, that’s it, don’t be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Simply slide all over me, there you go. Oh, infant, that’s so sexy …”.

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

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Show me that gorgeous …” He should have seen the search her face, since 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 a little, her intimate parts on full display screen.

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel tasty; she had not wished to be. Instead, she felt outrageous, self-conscious, even traitorous. A plaything for men with disposable earnings under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.

But mostly, she felt contrasted. Because she also recognized just how much power she held. This was a location where consumers paid for the opportunity of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger.

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

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 was enough to convince her to accept the next walk-in.