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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the cash, mostly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of sound judgment. But then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't have actually been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he might in fact charge more, particularly if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly two months currently, and I 'd lost track of how many people I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Selecting me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I believed was ridiculous, but you 'd marvel the number of guys wanted exactly 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 people too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap 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 girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it.
The guys loved 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 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 actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who liked me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I loved my papa. That had actually changed too and I do not understand if something involved the other specifically, however I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, the majority of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wanted to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps. But a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me in the beginning, however then it didn't and I started liking it.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I might talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and loved. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it.
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