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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyhow. I even began taking the cash, mainly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret obstruct of common sense. 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 homework, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time though.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a excellent thing due to the fact that he could in fact charge more, especially if the person I was going with selected me up at school. That privilege 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. Choosing me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was absurd, however you 'd be surprised how many guys wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine deal, an underage whore to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my daddy's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a great deal of money to invest and it was the suggestions that really flushed my savings account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need 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 in fact like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful in some cases too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; however never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it.
The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them enjoyed me for real 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 brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonesome because I knew it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who loved me wouldn't harm me, you know? I loved my dad. That had actually changed too and I do not understand if something related to the other exactly, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love with like fifty people or something, the majority 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 girl next door perhaps. But a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me initially, but then it didn't and I started liking it.
I could close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me really was my papa. I might talk to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel unique and developed and liked. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it.
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