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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the money, mostly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of common sense. But then, if I had the good sense I would not have been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time.
I only worked three or 4 nights a week anyway, considering that I needed to be house by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing since he might actually charge more, especially if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it. I was always afraid someone would see me entering a odd car, a different strange vehicle whenever, and question what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for practically two months already, and I 'd lost track of the number of people I 'd made love with. I didn't want to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a lot of cash too. Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Picking me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I thought was absurd, but you 'd marvel the number of people wanted precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to draw and fuck . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a great deal of cash to invest and it was the tips that really flushed my bank account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transportation 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 tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I believe 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 truly guilty initially, but that had gone away when I recognized I wasn't hurting anybody. The men loved me for a little bit, although a few of them liked me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back to their cities and cope 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 lonely since I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that method. Like a man who loved me wouldn't 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 lady next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I could speak with him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel full-grown and special and enjoyed. And someplace, somehow along that flight, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my genuine father and almost forget that it hadn't been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. But I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't assist it. It was set into me, growing up not as his daughter however as his other half. We 'd done everything however skilled our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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