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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, mainly due to the fact that I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of sound judgment. However then, if I had the sound judgment I would not have actually 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 women do.
I had not been a little woman in a long period of time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he could actually charge more, particularly if the person I was going with picked 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. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was ridiculous, but you 'd be surprised how numerous guys desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older people too, like my daddy's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a great deal of cash to spend and it was the tips that really flushed my savings account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my supervisor, my agent, my security person, my marketing 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 inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else considering that I had to in fact like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it.
The guys liked me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real 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 lonely due to the fact that I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who liked me would not harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and think of the guy who was making love to me truly was my dad. I might talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and loved. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I could not help it.
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