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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 money, mainly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of good sense. However then, if I had the sound judgment I would not have been an escort either. I would have been just another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a great thing since he could actually charge more, specifically if the man I was going with picked me up at school. That advantage turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it.
Method 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 thought was absurd, but you 'd be shocked how many guys desired exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an minor slut to suck and fuck . 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 lot of cash to invest and it was the suggestions that really flushed my savings account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He stated that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He bought my clothing 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 younger often too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a slut. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty in the beginning, but that had actually gone away when I understood I wasn't injuring anyone. The men enjoyed me for a bit, although some of them liked me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and deal with them. However 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 since I understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mainly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who liked me wouldn't hurt me, you know? I loved my father. That had actually changed too and I don't know if something involved the other specifically, but I do not believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people or something, most of them wanting me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them wished to call me by a various name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door maybe. But a lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me in the beginning, but then it didn't and I began liking it.
I could close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me truly was my father. I could talk to him, inform him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel special and full-grown and enjoyed. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it.
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