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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, mostly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. But then, if I had the common sense I would not have been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing because he could in fact charge more, especially if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was outrageous, however you 'd be surprised how lots of men wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor whore to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to actually like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it.
The men liked 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome because I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that method. Like a man who enjoyed me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, many of them wanting 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 lady next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my father. I might talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and liked. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it.
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