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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyhow. I even began taking the cash, primarily because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret obstruct of good sense. Then, if I had the common sense I would not have actually been an escort either. I would have been simply 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 lady in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing because he could really charge more, especially if the person 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 really like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ludicrous, however you 'd be surprised how lots of guys desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor whore to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty initially, but that had actually gone away when I recognized I wasn't harming anyone. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although a few of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back to their cities and cope with them. However they loved who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome since I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who liked me would not hurt me, you understand? 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 different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and picture the guy who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I might talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel developed and special and loved. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it.
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