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I even began taking the money, primarily since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of common 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 had not been a little woman in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing because he could in fact charge more, specifically if the man I was going with selected 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 'd been doing it for nearly two months already, and I 'd misplaced how many men I 'd had sex with. I didn't need to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money 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. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was ludicrous, however you 'd marvel how many guys desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real 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 lot of cash to invest and it was the ideas that truly flushed my checking account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms 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 since I had to in fact like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for real 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 because I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who enjoyed me would not hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them desiring 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 woman next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I might talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel developed and special and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it.
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