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I even started taking the money, mostly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I had not been a little woman in a long time.
I just worked three or four nights a week anyway, given that I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. But Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good idea since he could in fact charge more, particularly if the man I was choosing picked 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 constantly scared someone would see me entering a odd car, a different unusual car whenever, and wonder what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, however you 'd be stunned how many people desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to really like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it.
The guys loved me for a little bit, although some of them liked 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome due to the fact that I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that method. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I loved my father. That had altered too and I do not know if one thing had to do with the other specifically, but I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wanted to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door possibly. But a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me in the beginning, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I could close my eyes and imagine the guy who was making love to me really was my dad. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and liked. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it.
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