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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the money, mostly due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. 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 girls do.
I had not been a little girl 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 person I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ludicrous, however you 'd be shocked how many people wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor slut to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to actually like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it.
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 in the beginning, but that had actually gone away when I recognized I wasn't injuring anybody. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although a few of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and cope 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 because I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that method. Like a guy who liked me would not hurt me, you know? I loved my dad. That had actually altered too and I don't know if something involved the other specifically, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty guys or something, the majority of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wished to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe. But a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me in the beginning, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I might close my eyes and envision the male who was making love to me actually was my dad. I could talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel special and developed and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not assist it.
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