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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyhow. I even began taking the cash, mostly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret obstruct of sound judgment. Then, if I had the typical 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 had not been a little lady in a long time though.
I only worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyway, considering that I had to be house by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing since he might really charge more, particularly if the guy I was opting for selected me up at school. That opportunity ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't really like it. I was constantly scared someone would see me getting into a strange vehicle, a various unusual cars and truck whenever, and wonder what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, but you 'd be stunned how many people desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the things I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to actually like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty at first, but that had disappeared when I recognized I wasn't harming anyone. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although some of them loved me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least return to their cities and cope 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 lonely due to the fact that I knew it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who liked me would not hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, many 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 lady next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and imagine the guy who was making love to me really was my papa. I could talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel developed and unique and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it.
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