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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the money, mostly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of sound judgment. Then, if I had the common 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 ladies do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he might actually charge more, specifically if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be shocked how lots of people desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage slut to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a great deal of cash to spend and it was the pointers that truly flushed my checking account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transportation 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 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 in fact like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it.
The males 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 due to the fact that I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a person who liked me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, most 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 lady next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and picture the male who was making love to me truly was my papa. I could talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel developed and unique and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it.
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