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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the money, mostly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of common sense. But then, if I had the good sense I would not have been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a very long time though.
I only worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyway, given that I needed to be house by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing since he might actually charge more, specifically if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it. I was constantly afraid somebody would see me entering a unusual car, a various unusual automobile whenever, and wonder what was going on.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was ludicrous, but you 'd be shocked how many guys desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor whore to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to actually like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little woman maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt truly guilty in the beginning, but that had actually gone away when I understood I wasn't injuring anybody. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although a few of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back to their cities and live 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 lonesome due to the fact that I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who liked me wouldn't harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them wanting 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 girl next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and imagine the guy 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 grown-up and special and loved. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it.
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