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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, mainly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of good sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I wouldn't have actually 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 woman in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing because he might in fact charge more, particularly if the person I was going with chosen 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 invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ridiculous, however you 'd be shocked how many guys desired precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to suck and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of money to invest and it was the pointers that really flushed my checking account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk 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 given that I had to in fact like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act younger in some cases too, as a little girl perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty at first, but that had disappeared when I recognized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of 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 because I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who enjoyed me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I loved my daddy. That had changed too and I do not know if one thing involved the other specifically, but I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex with like fifty guys 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. But a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at first, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I could close my eyes and think of the guy who was making love to me really was my father. I might talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel special and developed and loved. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it.
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