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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, mostly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of sound judgment. Then, if I had the typical sense I would not 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 silly things that little girls do.
I had not been a little girl in a very long time though.
I just worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyway, considering that I had to be house by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he said that was a advantage because he could in fact charge more, particularly if the guy I was choosing chosen me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was always afraid someone would see me getting into a weird vehicle, a different strange car every time, and question what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised how many guys wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor whore to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to actually like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty in the beginning, but that had gone away when I understood I wasn't injuring anyone. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although a few of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least come back to their cities and cope with them. However they loved who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely because I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a man who liked me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me actually was my dad. I could talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and developed and liked. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it.
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