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I even started taking the cash, mainly because I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little women do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long period of time though.
I just worked 3 or 4 nights a week anyway, since 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 excellent thing because he might really charge more, particularly if the guy I was going with chosen me up at school. That advantage ended up being worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't truly like it. I was always afraid someone would see me entering into a unusual automobile, a different odd automobile each time, and wonder what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for nearly two months already, and I 'd misplaced how many men I 'd made love with. I didn't want to know, however it had to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash too. Way too much for a ninth grader to invest, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for two. Picking me up at school deserved an extra 200, which I believed was ludicrous, however you 'd marvel the number of people desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor slut to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my papa's age, or more frequently even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. He stated that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security guy, my advertising and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and scrap like that. It was more like acting than anything else given that I had to actually like these people for an hour or 2. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I believe I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had actually been a whore. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt really guilty in the beginning, but that had disappeared when I recognized I wasn't injuring anybody. The men loved me for a bit, although some of them liked me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or a minimum of return to their cities and live with them. But 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 understood it wasn't actually me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that way. Like a person who liked me wouldn't harm 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 daughter's name, or a niece or the little lady next door perhaps.
I could close my eyes and imagine the guy who was making love to me truly was my father. I might talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel unique and full-grown and liked. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I couldn't help it.
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