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It turns out I liked being an escort, far more than I thought I would anyhow. I even started taking the cash, mostly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt obstruct of common sense. Then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't 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 ladies do.
I hadn't been a little woman in a long time.
I just worked three or four nights a week anyway, considering that I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing since he might actually charge more, specifically if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it. I was constantly scared somebody would see me getting into a unusual vehicle, a various unusual automobile each time, and question what was going on.
Method too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I thought was ludicrous, but you 'd be surprised how many people wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my father's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's primarily. They had a lot of money to spend and it was the ideas that really flushed my bank account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous due to the fact that 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 tell it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to really like these people for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful in some cases 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 skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my convenience and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt truly guilty initially, however that had actually gone away when I recognized I wasn't harming anybody. The men liked me for a little bit, although a few of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of come back to their cities and live 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 lonesome due to the fact that I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a guy who enjoyed me would not harm me, you understand? I loved my papa. That had actually changed too and I do not know if something related to the other exactly, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd had sex 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 different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door perhaps. However a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, which troubled me initially, however then it didn't and I started liking it.
I could close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I could speak with him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel developed and special and enjoyed. And someplace, somehow along that ride, I 'd begun to believe it. I 'd go house and see my genuine father and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I couldn't assist it. It was programmed into me, growing up not as his daughter however as his partner. We 'd done everything however consummate our relationship, I thought, and he needed to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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