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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, mostly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of good sense. But then, if I had the good sense I wouldn't 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 ladies do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing since he might really charge more, especially if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for almost two months already, and I 'd misplaced how many men I 'd made love with. I didn't want to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of money too. Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Picking me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I thought was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised the number of people wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security man, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to in fact like these men for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little woman possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it.
The guys loved me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for genuine 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 lonesome since I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who loved me would not injure me, you understand? I was in love with my papa. That had altered too and I don't know if one thing pertained to the other specifically, but I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, the majority of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wished to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door maybe. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at first, however then it didn't and I started liking it.
I could close my eyes and picture the guy who was making love to me truly was my papa. I could talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and liked. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it.
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