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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 cash, primarily due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of common sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I would not 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 girls do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a very long time though.
I only worked 3 or four nights a week anyhow, because I had to be house by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing because he could actually charge more, particularly if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That privilege ended up being worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it. I was always afraid someone would see me getting into a weird car, a various strange vehicle each time, and question what was going on.
Way 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 thought was absurd, but you 'd be shocked how numerous men wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I require 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 men for an hour or 2. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, but that had actually disappeared when I understood I wasn't injuring anybody. The men liked me for a bit, although a few of them liked me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed 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 lonely since I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who liked me would not hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most 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 lady next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and envision the male who was making love to me truly was my dad. I might talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it.
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