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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, primarily because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of good sense. However then, if I had the good sense I wouldn't have actually been an escort either. I would have been just 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 woman in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing because he could actually charge more, particularly if the man I was going with selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was ludicrous, however you 'd be stunned how numerous men wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the tips that truly flushed my savings account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes 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 inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to actually like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty in the beginning, but that had gone away when I realized I wasn't injuring anyone. The men liked me for a bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least return to their cities and live with them. They were in love with who I pretended to be for that brief 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 person who enjoyed me would not injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door possibly.
I might close my eyes and envision the male who was making love to me actually was my father. I could talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and loved. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it.
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