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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the money, primarily since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. Then, if I had the typical 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 ridiculous things that little girls do.
I had not been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing due to the fact that he could 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 'd been doing it for almost 2 months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of people I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash too. Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was absurd, but you 'd be surprised how many people wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor whore to fuck and suck . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a great deal of money to spend and it was the suggestions that actually flushed my savings account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my agent, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap 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 really like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty in the beginning, but that had gone away when I realized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although a few of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and deal with them. However 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 because I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who liked me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, many of them desiring 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 maybe.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me really was my father. I might talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel developed and unique and enjoyed. And someplace, in some way along that ride, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go home and see my real father and practically forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his daughter but as his wife. We 'd done whatever however consummate our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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