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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the money, mostly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of sound judgment. But then, if I had the sound judgment I would not have actually 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 had not been a little woman in a long time.
I only worked three or four nights a week anyhow, because I had to be house by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he might actually charge more, particularly if the man I was choosing chosen me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it. I was constantly scared somebody would see me entering a odd cars and truck, a various unusual car every time, and wonder what was going on.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, however you 'd be stunned how many guys wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor slut to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act younger often too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine 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 in the beginning, but that had actually disappeared when I recognized I wasn't injuring anyone. The men liked me for a bit, although some of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of return 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 understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a man who loved me wouldn't harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me truly was my papa. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and liked. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it.
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