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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the cash, primarily since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret obstruct of good sense. However then, if I had the sound judgment I would not have been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he could actually charge more, especially if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised how lots of guys wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a great deal of cash to invest and it was the suggestions that really flushed my savings account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it.
The males 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome due to the fact that I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that method. Like a person who enjoyed me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I loved my dad. That had actually altered too and I do not understand if something related to the other specifically, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty men or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly. However a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me initially, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not assist it.
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