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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyhow. I even began taking the cash, mainly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret obstruct of sound judgment. Then, if I had the typical sense I wouldn't 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 ladies do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing because he could actually charge more, particularly if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly 2 months already, and I 'd misplaced the number of guys I 'd had sex with. I didn't would like to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Selecting me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I believed was absurd, but you 'd be surprised the number of men wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a lot of money to invest and it was the tips that actually flushed my bank account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell 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 in some cases too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never ever 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 comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty in the beginning, but that had actually gone away when I realized I wasn't injuring anyone. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although a few of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return to their cities and deal 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 due to the fact that I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a person who loved me would not hurt me, you understand? I loved my father. That had changed too and I do not know if one thing related to the other precisely, however I don't 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. A few of them wished to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly. However a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which bothered me at first, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my dad. I could speak with him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and liked. And somewhere, somehow along that trip, I 'd begun to think it. I 'd go house and see my real papa and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. However I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it. It was set into me, growing up not as his daughter however as his partner. We 'd done everything but practiced our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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