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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyhow. I even began taking the cash, mostly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of common sense. Then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't have been an escort either. 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 hadn't been a little woman in a long time though.
I only worked three or 4 nights a week anyway, considering that I needed to be house by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good idea since he might really charge more, especially if the guy I was choosing selected me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it. I was constantly afraid someone would see me entering into a weird vehicle, a different strange vehicle whenever, and wonder what was going on.
Method 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 thought was outrageous, however you 'd be shocked how lots of guys desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor whore to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. 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 things I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to actually like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it.
The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for genuine and asked me if I 'd marry 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome because I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who liked me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I loved my father. That had changed too and I do not understand if something had to do with the other exactly, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, the majority of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at first, but then it didn't and I began liking it.
I could close my eyes and imagine the guy who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I could talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and loved. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it.
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