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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, primarily because I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of common sense. However then, if I had the good 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 silly things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time.
I only worked three or 4 nights a week anyway, because I needed to be house 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 might in fact charge more, especially if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it. I was always scared somebody would see me entering a weird vehicle, a various strange cars and truck every time, and question what was going on.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be surprised how numerous people wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor whore to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to actually like these guys for an hour or two. I needed to act more youthful often too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. None of the men paying for me desired a woman, simply a girl, and understanding that I actually was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it. I had a skill for the sex stuff anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt truly guilty in the beginning, but that had actually disappeared when I realized I wasn't hurting anybody. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although a few of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd marry 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 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, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who liked me would not hurt me, you know? I loved my dad. That had changed too and I don't know if one thing involved the other specifically, but I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wanted to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at initially, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me truly was my father. I might talk with him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and liked. And somewhere, in some way along that ride, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go home and see my real daddy and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. However I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it. It was set into me, maturing not as his child however as his other half. We 'd done everything but consummate our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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