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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, primarily because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. Then, if I had the common 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 woman in a long time.
I only worked 3 or four nights a week anyhow, since I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good idea due to the fact that he might really charge more, particularly if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it. I was constantly afraid somebody would see me entering into a odd vehicle, a different odd car every time, and wonder what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for practically two months already, and I 'd misplaced how many men I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Way 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 two. Picking me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd be surprised how many guys wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty in the beginning, but that had gone away when I understood I wasn't injuring anyone. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although a few of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least return 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 since I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't injure me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, most of them desiring 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 lady next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and imagine the male who was making love to me really was my daddy. I could talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and developed and liked. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it.
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