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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 common sense. 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 had not been a little woman in a long time.
I only worked 3 or four nights a week anyway, considering that I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing due to the fact that he might actually charge more, particularly if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit ended up being worth a number of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it. I was constantly scared someone would see me getting into a unusual vehicle, a various weird car each time, and wonder 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 believed was absurd, but you 'd be shocked how lots of people wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor slut to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of money to invest and it was the ideas that really flushed my checking account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it.
The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them loved 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 lonesome because I knew it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who loved me wouldn't injure me, you know? 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 different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I might talk with him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and loved. And someplace, somehow along that ride, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my genuine father and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two prior to. But 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 however as his better half. We 'd done everything however consummate our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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