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I even began taking the cash, mainly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the method of common sense. 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 had not been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing due to the fact that he might in fact charge more, particularly if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.
I 'd been doing it for nearly two months already, and I 'd lost track of how many people I 'd made love with. I didn't wish to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of money too. Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd be surprised how many men desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor whore to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the tips that really flushed my savings account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap 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 since I had to actually like these guys for an hour or 2. I had to act younger often too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty in the beginning, but that had gone away when I realized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although a few of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least come back to their cities and live 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 because I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who loved me wouldn't injure me, you understand? I loved my daddy. That had actually changed too and I do not understand if one thing pertained to the other exactly, but I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty men or something, the majority of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wished to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at initially, but 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 actually was my father. I could talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel developed and unique and liked. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it.
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