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I even started taking the cash, mainly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like regret get in the method of common sense. 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 hadn't been a little lady in a long time.
I only worked three or 4 nights a week anyhow, considering that I had to be house by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing because he might actually charge more, particularly if the person I was going with chosen me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a number of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it. I was constantly afraid somebody would see me getting into a odd car, a different strange vehicle each time, and question what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, however you 'd be stunned how lots of people wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an minor whore to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my representative, my security person, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little lady possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever 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 convenience and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty in the beginning, but that had actually disappeared when I understood I wasn't hurting anybody. The men loved me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of return to their cities and cope with them. However 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 knew it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who enjoyed me would not injure me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wanted to call me by a various name, their child's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe.
I might close my eyes and imagine the guy who was making love to me really was my daddy. I might talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and grown-up and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it.
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