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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the money, primarily due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt 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 simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I had not been a little lady in a very long time though.
I just worked three or 4 nights a week anyway, because I needed to be house by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he might in fact charge more, specifically if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That privilege ended up being worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it. I was always scared someone would see me entering into a weird vehicle, a different weird vehicle every time, and wonder what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was absurd, however you 'd be surprised how lots of guys wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor slut to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to really like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, but that had actually gone away when I recognized I wasn't injuring anyone. The men liked me for a bit, although a few of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd marry 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely because I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that way. Like a person who liked me would not hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them desiring 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 woman next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and imagine the male who was making love to me truly was my dad. I might talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel special and developed and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it.
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