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It turns out I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the money, mostly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of common sense. Then, if I had the typical sense I would not have 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 ladies do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time.
I only worked 3 or four nights a week anyway, considering that I needed to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing because he could in fact charge more, specifically if the guy I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it. I was always afraid someone would see me getting into a odd cars and truck, a different odd vehicle whenever, 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 believed was outrageous, but you 'd be shocked how numerous people wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage whore to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the ideas that really flushed my checking account. Deke offered me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security man, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like condoms 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 given that I had to in fact like these people for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little lady maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, but that had disappeared when I realized I wasn't hurting anybody. The men loved 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 cope with them. But they loved who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely due to the fact that I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little much safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me wouldn't injure me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, many of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I could talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel unique and developed and liked. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not assist it.
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