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I even started taking the cash, mainly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the method of common sense. I would have been simply 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 lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing because he could actually charge more, especially if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for practically two months currently, and I 'd misplaced the number of men I 'd made love with. I didn't wish to know, but it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money too. Way 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. Choosing me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I thought was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised the number of guys desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a great deal of money to invest and it was the suggestions that actually flushed my bank account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms 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 given that I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt truly guilty in the beginning, however that had disappeared when I understood I wasn't harming anybody. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although a few of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return to their cities and deal with them. But they loved who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome since I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who enjoyed me would not hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me actually was my dad. I might talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel developed and special and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't help it.
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