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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the cash, mostly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of good sense. But then, if I had the sound judgment I would not have actually been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time.
I just worked three or 4 nights a week anyway, because I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing because he might in fact charge more, especially if the person 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 really like it. I was constantly afraid somebody would see me entering into a strange cars and truck, a various unusual vehicle each time, and question what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months already, and I 'd lost track of how many people I 'd had sex with. I didn't need to know, however it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Way excessive for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Selecting me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I believed was ludicrous, however you 'd marvel how many guys wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor whore to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to actually like these people for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt truly guilty in the beginning, however that had actually disappeared when I understood I wasn't harming anybody. The men liked me for a bit, although a few of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and cope 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 lonely since I understood it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I was in love with my father. That had actually altered too and I don't understand if something had to do with the other precisely, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, the majority of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe. However a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which troubled me at first, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I might close my eyes and imagine the guy who was making love to me really was my father. I might talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and liked. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it.
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