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I even began taking the money, primarily since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the method of typical sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
I just worked 3 or four nights a week anyway, because I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing since he might in fact charge more, particularly if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That privilege ended up being worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it. I was always scared someone would see me entering into a odd automobile, a various unusual vehicle each time, and wonder what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was absurd, however you 'd be surprised how many people desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor whore to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to really like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty in the beginning, but that had actually disappeared when I recognized I wasn't harming anyone. The men liked me for a bit, although a few of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back to their cities and deal with them. But 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 knew it wasn't really me they liked, mainly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a person who enjoyed me would not hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men 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 girl next door perhaps.
I might close my eyes and imagine the guy who was making love to me actually was my papa. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and liked. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it.
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