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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyhow. I even began taking the cash, primarily since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret obstruct of good sense. 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 girls do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
I just worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyhow, given that I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he might actually charge more, specifically if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it. I was always afraid someone would see me getting into a strange vehicle, a different strange automobile every time, and wonder what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be shocked how many men wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; but never ever older. None of the men paying for me desired a woman, simply a woman, and knowing that I really was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill 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.
The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real 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 truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who liked me would not injure me, you understand? I was in love with my papa. That had actually changed too and I don't know if something involved the other exactly, however I do not believe in coincidence either. 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 wished to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at initially, but then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and picture the male who was making love to me really was my dad. I could talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and loved. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it.
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