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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, primarily because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of sound judgment. Then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't have been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little lady in a long period of time though.
I only worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyway, 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 great thing since he might actually charge more, specifically if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was always scared somebody would see me entering a odd car, a various odd car every time, and wonder what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was outrageous, however you 'd be surprised how many men wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes 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 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; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them loved 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 because I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who enjoyed me wouldn't injure me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people 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 maybe.
I might close my eyes and envision the guy who was making love to me truly was my father. I could talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and liked. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not assist it.
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