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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret obstruct of good sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I wouldn't have 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 girls do.
I had not been a little girl in a very long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing since he could actually charge more, especially if the man I was going with picked 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 invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be stunned how many people wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor whore to fuck and suck . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of money to invest and it was the tips that truly flushed my bank account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I require 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 since I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it.
The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for genuine and asked me if I 'd marry 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 truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who enjoyed me would not hurt me, you understand? I was in love with my papa. That had actually changed too and I do not know if something involved the other exactly, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps. But a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which bothered me in the beginning, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my dad. I might talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and liked. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't assist it.
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