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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, primarily since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of common sense. But then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't have 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 hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he might actually charge more, especially if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ludicrous, however you 'd be stunned how lots of men desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor whore to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my papa's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a great deal of money to spend and it was the ideas that actually flushed my bank account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes 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 tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it.
The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them loved 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely due to the fact that I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who liked me would not injure 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 desired to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and imagine the male who was making love to me truly was my papa. I might talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it.
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