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I even started taking the cash, primarily since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of typical sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I had not been a little woman in a very long time though.
I only worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyway, since I had 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 since he might really charge more, especially if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was constantly scared somebody would see me entering a strange car, a different weird car every time, and question what was going on.
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 believed was absurd, but you 'd be stunned how many guys wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor slut to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of cash to spend and it was the tips that actually flushed my bank account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. 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 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 since I had to really like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty in the beginning, however that had actually gone away when I recognized I wasn't harming anybody. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although some of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and cope 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 because I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a man who loved me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I was in love with my dad. That had changed too and I don't understand if something involved the other exactly, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty guys or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly. But a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me initially, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I could close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I could talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not assist it.
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