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It ends up I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the money, primarily due to the fact that I was much too practical to let a little thing like guilt get in the way 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 research, doing her nails, doing the little ridiculous things that little ladies do.
I hadn't been a little lady in a long time.
I just worked 3 or four nights a week anyway, considering that I needed to be house by 9 pm on school nights and 10 o'clock on weekends. However Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good thing since he might actually charge more, specifically if the person I was opting for selected me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it. I was always afraid someone would see me entering into a odd car, a different weird automobile whenever, 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 believed was outrageous, but you 'd be stunned how lots of people desired exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to fuck and suck . These were all older people too, like my dad's age, or more often even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. He stated that was generous since he was my supervisor, my representative, my security guy, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the things 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 in fact like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little girl maybe eleven or twelve years old; however never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a real skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my patron saint. I 'd felt actually guilty at first, however that had actually gone away when I understood I wasn't hurting anyone. The men liked me for a little bit, although some of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd wed them, or at least come back to their cities and deal with them. But they loved who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely because I understood it wasn't really me they liked, mostly I felt a little much safer that way. Like a man who enjoyed me would not hurt me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty guys or something, most of them wanting 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 perhaps.
I could close my eyes and think of the male who was making love to me actually was my father. I could talk to him, inform him I loved him, how he made me feel special and developed and loved. I was falling in love, in developed love, and I could not assist it.
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