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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyhow. I even began taking the money, mainly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret obstruct 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 research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he could in fact 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 truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly two months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of people I 'd had sex with. I didn't need to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money 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. Picking me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, however you 'd be surprised the number of men wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to in fact like these people for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt truly guilty in the beginning, but that had gone away when I understood I wasn't injuring anybody. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although some of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return to their cities and live with them. However they loved who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely since I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who liked me wouldn't harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, many of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and picture the guy who was making love to me actually was my father. I could talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it.
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