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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the money, primarily since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of sound judgment. Then, if I had the common 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 women do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
I only worked 3 or four nights a week anyhow, 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 excellent thing due to the fact that he could actually charge more, especially if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it. I was always scared someone would see me entering a unusual car, a different odd car whenever, and question what was going on.
Method 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 believed was outrageous, but 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 fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a great deal of cash to spend and it was the suggestions that really flushed my checking account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
The guys liked 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 short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome due to the fact that I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who loved me would not harm me, you understand? I loved my father. That had changed too and I do not know if something pertained to the other precisely, but I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love 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 different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps. But a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at first, but then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and envision the guy who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it.
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