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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, mostly due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of sound judgment. However then, if I had the good sense I would not have been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing due to the fact that he could actually charge more, especially if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost two months already, and I 'd misplaced the number of men I 'd made love with. I didn't want to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash too. Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was absurd, but you 'd marvel the number of men wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to draw and fuck . 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 stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it.
The males liked 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely since I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who loved me would not harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people 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 daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and think of the guy who was making love to me truly was my papa. I could talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and developed and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it.
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