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I even began taking the money, primarily because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the method of typical sense. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time.
I just worked 3 or four nights a week anyhow, considering that I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten 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 selected me up at school. That benefit ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it. I was constantly scared somebody would see me entering a odd cars and truck, a different odd cars and truck each time, and wonder what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised how many people desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to fuck and suck . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a great deal of cash to spend and it was the ideas that truly flushed my checking account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my representative, my security man, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought 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. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to actually like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty at first, however that had actually gone away when I understood I wasn't harming anyone. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although some of them liked me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of 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 lonesome due to the fact that I understood it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that method. Like a person who enjoyed me wouldn't harm me, you understand? 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 desired to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly.
I could close my eyes and think of the guy who was making love to me really was my papa. I could talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel developed and special and liked. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it.
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