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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the money, mainly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret obstruct of common 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 silly things that little girls do.
I had not been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing since he might really charge more, especially if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, however you 'd be shocked how many men desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage whore to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to actually like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real 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 truly guilty in the beginning, but that had gone away when I realized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men liked me for a bit, although a few of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least return 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 understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't hurt 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 wanted to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me truly was my father. I could talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and developed and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't assist it.
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