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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the money, mostly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. However then, if I had the good sense I would not have actually been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do. I had not been a little woman in a very long time though. I just worked 3 or four nights a week anyhow, given that I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he could in fact charge more, specifically if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it. I was constantly afraid someone would see me entering into a unusual car, a different weird automobile whenever, and wonder what was going on.

Way 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 absurd, but you 'd be stunned how lots of guys wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a lot of money to invest and it was the pointers that actually flushed my savings account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. That wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else since I needed to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years of ages; but never older. None of the men spending for me desired a woman, just a woman, and knowing that I really was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.

Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, but that had actually gone away when I recognized I wasn't injuring anybody. The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least come back to their cities and deal 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 because I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who enjoyed me would not injure 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 woman next door maybe.

I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me truly was my papa. I could speak to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and liked. And someplace, in some way along that trip, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my genuine papa and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. However I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it. It was set into me, growing up not as his daughter but as his wife. We 'd done everything but consummate our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?

 

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