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I even began taking the cash, mainly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of common sense. 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 lady in a long time though.
I only worked three or four nights a week anyway, since I needed to be house by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he could really charge more, particularly if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it. I was always afraid somebody would see me entering a odd car, a different weird cars and truck each time, and wonder what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months currently, and I 'd misplaced how many guys I 'd had sex with. I didn't wish to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was absurd, but you 'd marvel how many men wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage whore to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased 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 considering that I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt truly guilty in the beginning, but that had disappeared when I recognized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least return to their cities and deal 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 lonesome because I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me would not harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I could talk with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and liked. And somewhere, in some way along that trip, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go home and see my genuine daddy and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his child however as his better half. We 'd done whatever however consummate our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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