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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the money, primarily because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of good sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I wouldn't have actually been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do.
I had not been a little woman in a long time though.
I just worked 3 or four nights a week anyhow, since 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 great thing because he could in fact charge more, specifically if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it. I was always afraid someone would see me entering into a odd cars and truck, a different unusual cars and truck whenever, and question what was going on.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be shocked how many people wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor slut 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 primarily. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the ideas that truly flushed my bank account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. 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 2. I had to act younger often too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men paying for me wanted a lady, just a girl, and knowing that I actually was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it. I had a talent 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 slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, however that had actually gone away when I realized I wasn't harming anybody. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and deal with them. 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 due to the fact that I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who liked me would not injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my daddy. I could talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and developed and loved. And somewhere, somehow along that flight, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go home and see my genuine father and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his daughter but as his wife. We 'd done everything however consummate our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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