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I even started taking the cash, mainly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the method of common sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he could actually charge more, especially if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was ludicrous, but you 'd be stunned how many people wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to really like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act younger often too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty in the beginning, but that had gone away when I realized I wasn't injuring anybody. The men loved me for a bit, although a few of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least return to their cities and deal 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 more secure that method. Like a guy who liked me would not harm me, you know? I loved my father. That had changed too and I do not understand if something had to do with the other specifically, however I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty men or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wished to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe. However a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me in the beginning, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and think of the guy who was making love to me really was my daddy. I could talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel special and developed and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it.
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