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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, primarily because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret obstruct of common sense. Then, if I had the typical 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 silly things that little girls do.
I had not been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing due to the fact that he could in fact charge more, especially if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was absurd, however you 'd be shocked how many people desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor whore to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the suggestions that truly flushed my bank account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk 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 given that I had to really like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
The guys loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for genuine 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 lonely because I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who liked me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and envision the guy who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I could talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel special and developed and liked. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it.
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