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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the money, mostly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of good sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I wouldn't have actually been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing due to the fact that he might in fact charge more, especially if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was ridiculous, but you 'd be shocked how many men wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a lot of cash to spend 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 representative, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought 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 inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to in fact like these people for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never 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 actually guilty in the beginning, however that had gone away when I understood I wasn't harming anyone. The men loved me for a little bit, although a few of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of 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 understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me truly was my papa. I might talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it.
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