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I even began taking the cash, mainly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of typical sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
I only worked three or 4 nights a week anyway, since I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. But Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good idea since he could really charge more, specifically if the man I was opting for chosen me up at school. That privilege ended up being worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it. I was constantly afraid someone would see me entering into a weird cars and truck, a various odd vehicle 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 extra 200, which I thought was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised how many people wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to in fact like these people for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty in the beginning, but that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least come back to their cities and deal 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 since I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a man who loved me would not injure 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 desired to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and envision the male who was making love to me really was my father. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it.
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