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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyhow. I even started taking the money, mostly due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct 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 ridiculous things that little girls do.
I had not been a little woman in a long period of time though.
I just worked 3 or four nights a week anyway, because I needed to be house by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. But Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a advantage because he could actually charge more, specifically if the guy I was opting for selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was always scared somebody would see me entering into a unusual vehicle, a different odd car each time, and wonder what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for almost 2 months currently, and I 'd lost track of how many guys I 'd made love with. I didn't wish to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was absurd, but you 'd be surprised the number of people desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor whore to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
The guys liked me for a little 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 live 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 lonesome due to the fact that I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that method. Like a guy who liked me would not hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, many of them desiring 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 maybe.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me actually was my papa. I could speak to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and enjoyed. And someplace, in some way along that ride, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go home and see my real dad and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his child but as his other half. We 'd done whatever but practiced our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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