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I even began taking the money, mainly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the method of common sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
I only worked 3 or four nights a week anyhow, because I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. But Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing because he could in fact charge more, particularly if the guy I was choosing chosen me up at school. That benefit ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it. I was constantly afraid someone would see me getting into a unusual vehicle, a different unusual vehicle each time, and question what was going on.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was ludicrous, but you 'd be shocked how many people wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of money to invest and it was the pointers that actually flushed my bank account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I require 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 men for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty in the beginning, however that had actually disappeared when I recognized I wasn't harming anyone. The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least return to their cities and live with them. But 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 since I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who loved me would not harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me truly was my dad. I might speak with him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel developed and special and enjoyed. And someplace, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real father and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his daughter but as his partner. We 'd done whatever but practiced our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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