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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, mostly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of common sense. But then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't have actually 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 woman in a long time though.
I just worked three or four nights a week anyhow, since 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 thing due to the fact that he could actually charge more, particularly if the man I was opting for chosen me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it. I was constantly afraid somebody would see me entering a unusual car, a different strange cars and truck whenever, and wonder what was going on.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was outrageous, however you 'd be shocked how lots of people wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage whore to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a lot of money to invest and it was the ideas that actually flushed my checking account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require 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. But that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else since I needed to actually like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. None of the men spending for me wanted a lady, just a lady, and knowing that I actually was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty at first, but that had actually disappeared when I realized I wasn't hurting anybody. The men loved me for a bit, although some of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back to their cities and cope with them. However they were in love with who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome because I understood it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who liked me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my papa. I could talk with him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and enjoyed. And somewhere, somehow along that trip, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my real dad and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his child but as his wife. 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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