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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, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of sound judgment. But then, if I had the sound judgment I would not have been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little girl 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. But Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he could in fact charge more, especially if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it. I was constantly scared somebody would see me getting into a unusual cars and truck, a various unusual cars and truck whenever, 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 outrageous, however you 'd be shocked how lots of men 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 dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the tips that truly flushed my checking account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics 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. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to actually like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful 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.
The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd marry 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 lonely since I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who enjoyed me would not hurt me, you know? I loved my papa. That had altered too and I do not know if one thing pertained to the other precisely, however I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty guys or something, the majority 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 woman next door maybe. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at first, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and picture the guy who was making love to me truly was my papa. I might talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it.
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