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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, mainly due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret obstruct of good sense. 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 homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing due to the fact that he might actually charge more, especially if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost two months already, and I 'd lost track of how many guys I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash too. Method 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. Picking me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I believed was absurd, but you 'd be surprised the number of guys desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor whore to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of cash to spend and it was the tips that really flushed my checking account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics 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 2. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
The men liked 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 truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't injure me, you know? I loved my papa. That had actually changed too and I don't understand if one thing involved the other precisely, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty guys or something, the majority of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wished to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly. But a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at first, but then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my father. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and unique and liked. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't assist it.
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