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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the cash, mostly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of good sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I wouldn't have actually been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little lady in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing since he might in fact charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be stunned how many guys wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a great deal of cash to invest and it was the tips that really flushed my checking account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap 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 sometimes too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it.
The males loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for genuine 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 lonesome because I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that method. Like a guy who enjoyed me would not injure me, you know? I loved my dad. That had actually altered too and I don't understand if something related to the other specifically, but I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wished to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at initially, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my father. I could talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it.
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