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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyway. I even started taking the money, mainly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of good sense. But then, if I had the sound judgment I would not 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 ladies do.
I had not been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing due to the fact that he could in fact charge more, particularly if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost two months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of guys I 'd had sex with. I didn't want 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. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ludicrous, however you 'd be surprised how many people desired exactly 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 papa's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. But that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to in fact like these people for an hour or more. I needed to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. None of the men paying for me desired a woman, just a woman, 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 talent for it. I had a skill for the sex stuff anyway, 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 truly guilty at first, however that had gone away when I understood I wasn't injuring anybody. The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return to their cities and deal 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 since I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a guy who enjoyed me would not harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys 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 child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and developed and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not assist it.
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