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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the cash, primarily because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of sound judgment. But then, if I had the sound judgment 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 silly things that little women do.
I had not been a little woman in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing since he might actually charge more, particularly if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually 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 would like to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Way excessive for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Choosing me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I thought was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised the number of people wanted precisely 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 papa's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to actually like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never 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 liked 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely because I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a person who loved me would not harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired 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 imagine the male who was making love to me really was my papa. I might talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it.
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