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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyhow. I even started taking the money, mostly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret obstruct of sound judgment. But then, if I had the common 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 ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long period of time though.
I only worked 3 or four nights a week anyway, since I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he could in fact charge more, especially if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it. I was constantly afraid someone would see me entering a odd cars and truck, a different unusual vehicle each time, and question what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for practically two months already, and I 'd misplaced how many men I 'd had sex with. I didn't want to know, however it needed 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. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was outrageous, however you 'd be surprised the number of people desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. But that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else because I needed to actually like these guys for an hour or 2. I needed to act younger in some cases too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; however never older. None of the men paying for me desired a lady, simply a woman, and understanding that I truly was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it. I had a talent for the sex things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The males enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for genuine and asked me if I 'd wed 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 since I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who liked me would not harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me really was my papa. I could speak to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel developed and unique and loved. And someplace, somehow along that flight, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go house and see my real father and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it. It was set into me, growing up not as his child but as his wife. We 'd done everything but consummate our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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