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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the cash, primarily due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of sound judgment. But then, if I had the good sense I would not have actually been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time.
I only worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyhow, since I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing because he might actually charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it. I was constantly afraid someone would see me getting into a odd cars and truck, a various odd automobile each time, and question what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was outrageous, however you 'd be stunned how many people wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage slut to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or more often 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 transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to in fact like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act younger often too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill 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 truly guilty at first, but that had gone away when I understood I wasn't hurting anybody. The men liked me for a bit, although some 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome due to the fact that I knew it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who liked me wouldn't harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, most of them desiring 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 perhaps.
I might close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me really was my papa. I could talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and loved. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it.
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