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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, mainly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret obstruct of good sense. Then, if I had the common sense I would not have been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing due to the fact that he might really charge more, especially if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was ridiculous, however you 'd be stunned how many guys desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty at first, however that had actually disappeared when I recognized I wasn't injuring 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 cope 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 since I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a man who liked me would not harm me, you understand? I loved my daddy. That had actually changed too and I don't know if something had to do with the other precisely, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people or something, most of them desiring 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 possibly. But a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which bothered me at first, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I could close my eyes and imagine the male who was making love to me truly was my papa. I might talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it.
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