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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 cash, primarily due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of sound judgment. However then, if I had the good sense I would not 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 silly things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he could really charge more, particularly if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised how many men desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage slut to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful often 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.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty initially, but that had actually gone away when I realized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least return to their cities and cope with them. But they loved who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome since I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men 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 child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and think of the guy who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I might talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel developed and special and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it.
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