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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the money, mostly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct 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 silly things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing due to the fact that he could 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 additional, although I didn't truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for practically 2 months currently, and I 'd misplaced how many men I 'd had sex with. I didn't need to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money too. Way excessive for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was absurd, but you 'd be surprised how many people desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to in fact like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it.
The guys liked me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for real 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome since I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that method. Like a man who enjoyed me would not harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and think of the guy who was making love to me truly was my father. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel developed and unique and loved. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it.
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