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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyhow. I even began taking the money, mostly since I was much too practical 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 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 girls do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
I only worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyway, given that I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he might actually charge more, especially if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it. I was always scared someone would see me getting into a unusual automobile, a different odd car each time, and wonder what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, however you 'd be shocked how numerous people wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the pointers that actually flushed my savings account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased 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 because I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, but that had disappeared when I understood I wasn't hurting anyone. The men loved me for a bit, although a few of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least come back to their cities and live with them. However 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 because I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who liked me would not injure me, you understand? I was in love with my dad. That had changed too and I don't know if one thing related to the other exactly, however I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, the majority of them wanting 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 lady next door perhaps. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at initially, however then it didn't and I started liking it.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I might talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel developed and unique and loved. And somewhere, somehow along that trip, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go home and see my real dad and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two prior to. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his daughter but as his other half. We 'd done everything but consummate our relationship, I believed, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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