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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyhow. I even began taking the cash, mainly since I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of common sense. However then, if I had the common sense I would not have been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a excellent thing due to the fact that he could actually charge more, specifically if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was absurd, but you 'd be stunned how many people wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor whore to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my father's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty in the beginning, but that had gone away when I understood I wasn't injuring anyone. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although a few of them enjoyed me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least come back to their cities and deal with them. However they loved who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely since I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who liked me wouldn't injure me, you understand? I loved my daddy. That had actually altered too and I do not know if one thing had to do with the other precisely, however I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wanted to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door possibly. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at initially, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I could close my eyes and think of the guy 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 developed and unique and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not assist it.
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