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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the money, mainly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of good sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I would not have been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
I just worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyhow, because I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. But Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good idea because he could really charge more, specifically if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That opportunity ended up being worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was always afraid someone would see me entering a unusual car, a various strange automobile each time, and wonder what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months currently, and I 'd lost track of how many people I 'd had sex with. I didn't need to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash too. Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was ridiculous, however you 'd marvel how many guys desired 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 father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a great deal of money to spend and it was the pointers that really flushed my bank account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. 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 need to work, like condoms and lube and junk 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 since I had to actually like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt truly guilty at first, however that had gone away when I recognized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least return 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 understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who enjoyed me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I was in love with my dad. That had actually altered too and I do not know if one thing involved the other specifically, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty guys or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps. But a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which troubled me initially, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I could speak with him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and loved. And somewhere, somehow along that flight, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my genuine papa and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't assist it. It was set into me, growing up not as his daughter but as his partner. We 'd done everything but practiced our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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