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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyhow. I even began taking the cash, primarily because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of good sense. But then, if I had the common sense I would not have actually been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time though.
I just worked 3 or four nights a week anyway, considering that I needed to be house by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he could actually charge more, specifically if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That privilege ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it. I was constantly afraid someone would see me entering into a weird car, a different odd vehicle each time, and wonder what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ridiculous, however you 'd be surprised how lots of men wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a great deal of cash to spend and it was the tips that really flushed my savings account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my advertising 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 inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it.
The males loved me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least come back to their cities and live with them. They were in love with who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome due to the fact that I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who liked me would not hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many 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 woman next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I might speak with him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and loved. And somewhere, somehow along that ride, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go home and see my real papa and nearly forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or more prior to. But I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his child but as his other half. 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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