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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I believed I would anyway. I even started taking the cash, primarily because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of good sense. But then, if I had the sound judgment I would not 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 silly things that little ladies do.
I had not been a little woman in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing due to the fact that he could really charge more, particularly if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was ludicrous, but you 'd be shocked how numerous guys wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine 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 mostly. They had a lot of money to invest and it was the pointers that truly flushed my savings account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased 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 because I had to in fact like these men for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty at first, but that had actually gone away when I recognized I wasn't injuring anybody. The men liked me for a bit, although a few of them liked me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least return to their cities and deal 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 lonesome since I understood it wasn't really me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that way. Like a person who liked me would not hurt me, you understand? I loved my daddy. That had actually altered too and I do not know if something had to do with the other exactly, but I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty guys or something, the majority of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. A few of them wanted to call me by a different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little lady next door maybe. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me at first, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and picture the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it.
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