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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 cash, primarily since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of common sense. Then, if I had the common sense I would not 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 silly things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a very long time though.
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 selected me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it.
I 'd been doing it for practically two months already, and I 'd misplaced how many people I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash 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 believed was outrageous, however you 'd be surprised the number of people wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor whore to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, however that had actually gone away when I recognized I wasn't harming anyone. The men loved me for a bit, although a few of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back to their cities and live with them. But they loved 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 really me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who liked me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men 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 child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and imagine the guy who was making love to me truly was my papa. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it.
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