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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the money, mainly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of good sense. Then, if I had the common sense I would not have 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 ladies do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time.
I only worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyway, because I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good idea because he could actually charge more, specifically if the guy I was opting for picked me up at school. That advantage ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was constantly afraid somebody would see me getting into a odd automobile, a different weird cars and truck each time, and wonder what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, however you 'd be stunned how lots of people wanted precisely that. Like it proved 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 mainly. They had a great deal of money to invest and it was the pointers that actually flushed my bank account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to in fact like these men for an hour or 2. I needed to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. None of the men spending for me wanted a woman, simply a girl, and knowing that I really was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it. I had a talent for the sex things anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
The guys loved me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for genuine 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 knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who liked me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me truly was my papa. I could talk with him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and liked. And someplace, somehow along that flight, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go house and see my real daddy and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his daughter but as his better half. We 'd done everything but consummate our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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