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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the money, primarily due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of sound judgment. Then, if I had the typical 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 silly things that little girls do.
I had not been a little woman in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he could actually charge more, particularly if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be shocked how many people desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to really like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; however never older. None of the men spending for me wanted a lady, simply a woman, and understanding that I truly 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 skill for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the 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 really guilty at first, however that had actually gone away when I recognized I wasn't injuring anybody. The men liked me for a bit, although some of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back to their cities and deal 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 lonely since I knew it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that method. Like a man who loved me would not injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I could talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and loved. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it.
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