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I even started taking the money, primarily because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a very long time though.
I just worked three or 4 nights a week anyhow, since I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he could really charge more, specifically if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it. I was constantly afraid someone would see me entering a unusual car, a various unusual vehicle every time, and question what was going on.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be surprised how numerous guys wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor whore to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a lot of money to spend and it was the pointers that truly flushed my bank account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to in fact like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act younger often too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty initially, but that had gone away when I understood I wasn't harming anybody. The men loved me for a little bit, although a few of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and deal 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 truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who loved me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I was in love with my father. That had changed too and I don't understand if one thing had to do with the other precisely, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wished to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at first, but then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and imagine the guy who was making love to me truly was my papa. I could talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it.
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