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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, mostly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret obstruct of common sense. Then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't have actually been an escort either. I would have been simply 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 woman in a very long time though.
I only worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyhow, given that I needed to be house by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. But Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good idea since he could in fact charge more, specifically if the person I was opting for chosen 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 was always scared somebody would see me getting into a strange vehicle, a various weird automobile whenever, and question what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months currently, and I 'd lost track of the number of men I 'd had sex with. I didn't wish to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised how many men desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of money to spend and it was the suggestions that really flushed my checking account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security man, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty initially, however that had disappeared when I recognized I wasn't injuring anybody. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although a few of them liked me genuine 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 lonesome because I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who enjoyed me would not injure me, you know? I loved my papa. That had changed too and I do not understand if one thing pertained to the other precisely, 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 different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly. However a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which bothered me at first, but then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me truly was my papa. I could speak with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and liked. And somewhere, in some way along that trip, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real dad and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. But I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his child but as his better half. We 'd done everything but consummate our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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