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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the money, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret obstruct of sound judgment. But then, if I had the good sense I wouldn't 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 women do.
I had not been a little girl in a long time though.
I just worked three or four nights a week anyway, since I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing because he might in fact charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it. I was always scared someone would see me entering a unusual automobile, a different weird vehicle every time, and question what was going on.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was ridiculous, however you 'd be surprised how many people desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a great deal of money to spend and it was the tips that really flushed my bank account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. But that wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else given that I needed to actually like these guys for an hour or more. I needed to act younger often too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. None of the men spending for me wanted a woman, simply a woman, and knowing that I actually was simply fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it. I had a talent for the sex stuff anyhow, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the much better I got.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty in the beginning, but that had disappeared when I understood I wasn't hurting anyone. The men liked me for a 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 cope with them. However 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 truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who loved me would not harm me, you understand? I was in love with my daddy. That had actually changed too and I don't know if something had to do with the other exactly, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty men or something, most of them wanting 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 lady next door perhaps. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at initially, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me truly was my father. I could talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and developed and liked. And somewhere, somehow along that ride, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go house and see my real papa and practically forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 prior to. However I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it. It was configured into me, maturing not as his daughter but as his partner. We 'd done whatever but consummate our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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