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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, mostly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the way of sound judgment. Then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't have been an escort either. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I had not been a little lady in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good thing because he might really charge more, especially if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't really like it.
Method 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 ludicrous, but you 'd be stunned how many people desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor slut to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of cash to spend and it was the pointers that truly flushed my bank account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my advertising and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk 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 people for an hour or 2. I had to act more youthful often too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it.
The guys loved me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for genuine and asked me if I 'd wed 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 truly me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that method. Like a guy who liked me wouldn't harm me, you understand? I 'd had sex with like fifty people or something, most of them desiring 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 woman next door maybe.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me actually was my papa. I might talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel grown-up and special and loved. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not help it.
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