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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the cash, mainly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret obstruct of good sense. However then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't 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 women do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
I just worked three or four nights a week anyhow, because I had to be house by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing due to the fact that he might in fact charge more, specifically if the person I was choosing picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it. I was always scared someone would see me entering a unusual vehicle, a different unusual vehicle each time, and question what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for practically 2 months currently, and I 'd misplaced how many guys I 'd made love with. I didn't would like to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money too. Method too much 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 was worth an extra 200, which I thought was outrageous, but you 'd marvel how many people wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor whore to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the tips that actually flushed my checking account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my agent, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics 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 because I needed to really like these men for an hour or more. I had to act younger often too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years of ages; however never older. None of the men spending for me desired a woman, simply a girl, and understanding that I truly was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt truly guilty at first, but that had disappeared when I recognized I wasn't harming anybody. The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least return to their cities and cope with them. But 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 lonesome since I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who liked me would not hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me truly was my dad. I might talk with him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel developed and special and liked. And somewhere, in some way along that flight, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real papa and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. But I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his daughter however as his better half. We 'd done everything but skilled our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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