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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyway. I even started taking the money, mainly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret obstruct of good sense. However then, if I had the good sense I would not 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 ridiculous things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he could actually charge more, particularly 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 actually like it.
Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, however you 'd be surprised how numerous guys desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor whore to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or more typically even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my manager, my agent, my security person, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really like these people for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real 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 at first, but that had actually gone away when I understood I wasn't hurting anybody. The men loved me for a bit, although a few of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of 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 truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me would not hurt me, you know? I loved my father. That had altered too and I do not know if one thing pertained to the other specifically, however I don't 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. A few of them wished to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at initially, but then it didn't and I began liking it.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my daddy. I could talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and enjoyed. And someplace, in some way along that flight, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go home and see my real dad and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. However I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it. It was configured into me, growing up not as his daughter however as his partner. We 'd done everything but skilled our relationship, I thought, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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