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It ends up I liked being an escort, far more than I believed I would anyway. I even started taking the money, primarily since I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of common sense. 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 silly things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing because he might actually charge more, specifically if the person 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 invest, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was outrageous, but you 'd be surprised how many men wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. He stated that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security man, 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. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to actually like these men for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it.
The guys loved me for a little bit, although some of them loved me for genuine and asked me if I 'd marry 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 since I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a guy who liked me would not hurt me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, many of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my daddy. I might talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it.
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