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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 because I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of common sense. However then, if I had the sound judgment I wouldn't have actually been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing due to the fact that he could actually charge more, especially if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be shocked how many men wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor whore to suck and fuck . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of money to spend and it was the tips that actually flushed my savings account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing 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 tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed 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 lonely since I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a guy who loved me wouldn't harm me, you know? I was in love with my father. That had altered too and I don't understand if something related to the other precisely, but I do not 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. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their child'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 bothered me at first, but then it didn't and I began liking it.
I could close my eyes and envision 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 full-grown and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not assist it.
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