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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, primarily since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of good sense. However then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't have actually 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 lady in a very long time though.
I only worked three 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 good thing due to the fact that he could really charge more, specifically if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was always afraid somebody would see me entering a weird automobile, a various unusual cars and truck every time, and question what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for nearly two months already, and I 'd lost track of how many guys I 'd made love with. I didn't wish to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Method excessive 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. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was ridiculous, but you 'd marvel the number of people wanted precisely that. Like it proved 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 father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of money to invest and it was the pointers that actually flushed my savings account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes 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 really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real 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 actually guilty at first, but that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't harming anyone. The men loved me for a bit, although some of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least return to their cities and deal with them. But they loved 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 truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who loved me wouldn't injure me, you know? I loved my dad. That had actually changed too and I don't know if one thing related to the other exactly, however I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wished to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe. However a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me in the beginning, however then it didn't and I started liking it.
I could close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me truly was my papa. I could speak with him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and enjoyed. And someplace, somehow along that trip, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my genuine dad and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more before. But I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his daughter but as his wife. We 'd done whatever but skilled our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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