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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyhow. I even started taking the money, mostly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of good sense. But then, if I had the sound judgment I wouldn't have actually been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time.
I only worked three or four nights a week anyhow, since I had to be house by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing since he could in fact charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with selected me up at school. That opportunity ended up being worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was constantly scared somebody would see me entering into a strange car, a different odd vehicle every time, and wonder what was going on.
Way 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 thought was ludicrous, however you 'd be surprised how many guys desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor whore to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a great deal of money to spend 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 due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. But that wasn't true. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these men for an hour or 2. I needed to act younger in some cases too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never older. None of the men spending for me wanted a lady, simply a woman, and understanding that I actually was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it. I had a skill for the sex things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, however that had gone away when I understood I wasn't injuring anybody. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although a few of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least return to their cities and deal with them. They were in love with who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome since I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a person who loved me would not harm 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 wanted to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my daddy. I could talk with him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and loved. And somewhere, in some way along that trip, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real daddy and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. But I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his daughter but as his partner. We 'd done everything but practiced our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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