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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the money, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of good sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I wouldn't have been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time.
I only worked 3 or four nights a week anyway, since I needed to be house by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing since he might really charge more, specifically if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it. I was constantly afraid somebody would see me entering into a odd vehicle, a various unusual automobile every time, and question what was going on.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be shocked how many men desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back to their cities and live with them. They were in love with who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome because I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a man who liked me would not harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and picture the male who was making love to me really was my daddy. I might talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel developed and special and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not assist it.
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