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It ends up I liked being an escort, much more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the money, mostly due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of sound judgment. Then, if I had the common sense 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 lady in a long time though.
I just worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyhow, because I had to be home by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. But Deke didn't mind, he stated that was a good idea since he might in fact charge more, specifically if the man I was going with chosen me up at school. That privilege turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't actually like it. I was always afraid somebody would see me entering a strange automobile, a various odd vehicle every time, and question what was going on.
Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. Selecting me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I thought was absurd, but you 'd be stunned how many guys wanted precisely that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real deal, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older people too, like my father's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my representative, my security person, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. It was more like acting than anything else because I had to really like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real talent for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty at first, however that had actually gone away when I recognized I wasn't hurting anyone. The men enjoyed me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least return to their cities and deal 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 lonesome because I knew it wasn't actually me they liked, primarily I felt a little more secure that method. Like a guy who liked me wouldn't injure me, you understand? I was in love with my dad. That had actually altered too and I don't know if something related to the other precisely, but I don't believe in coincidence either. 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 different name, their child's name, or a niece or the little woman next door possibly. A lot of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that bothered me at initially, however then it didn't and I started liking it.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me actually was my father. I might talk to him, tell him I loved him, how he made me feel special and grown-up and loved. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it.
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