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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyhow. I even began taking the cash, mainly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of sound judgment. 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 research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing since he could actually charge more, specifically if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, however you 'd be surprised how numerous guys desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage slut to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a lot of money to spend and it was the ideas that actually flushed my savings account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to actually like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for genuine and asked me if I 'd wed 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 lonely since I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that method. Like a guy who loved me would not harm me, you know? 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 desired 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 picture the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I could talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it.
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