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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyhow. I even began taking the money, mainly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret obstruct of common sense. Then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't have 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 ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he could really charge more, specifically if the guy 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 truly like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised how many guys desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor whore to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. But that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to really like these people for an hour or two. I needed to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. None of the men paying for me wanted a female, just a woman, and knowing that I actually 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 skill for the sex stuff anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt truly guilty in the beginning, but that had gone away when I recognized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men loved me for a bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and deal with them. But they were in love with who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely because I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who enjoyed me would not injure 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 woman next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I could speak to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and developed and liked. And someplace, in some way along that flight, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real papa and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two prior to. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his child however as his better half. We 'd done whatever however practiced our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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