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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the cash, mainly due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of sound judgment. But then, if I had the sound judgment I would not have actually been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing because he could in fact charge more, particularly if the man 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 really like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd be stunned how many guys wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a great deal of money to invest and it was the tips that truly flushed my bank account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap 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 younger sometimes too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
The guys liked me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely due to the fact that I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who enjoyed me would not injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me truly was my father. I could talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it.
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