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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I thought I would anyway. I even began taking the cash, primarily because I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret obstruct of common sense. However then, if I had the sound judgment I would not have actually 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 had not been a little girl in a long time.
Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing since he might really charge more, particularly if the man 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.
Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an extra 200, which I believed was outrageous, however you 'd be surprised how lots of guys wanted exactly that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the genuine offer, an minor slut to fuck and draw . These were all older guys too, like my papa's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of cash to spend and it was the suggestions that actually flushed my bank account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous because he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transport all rolled into one. He purchased my clothes and the stuff I require to work, like prophylactics and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. It was more like acting than anything else since I had to in fact like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act younger often too, as a little woman perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine talent 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 actually guilty in the beginning, but that had gone away when I understood I wasn't hurting anybody. The men liked me for a bit, although a few of them loved me genuine and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back to their cities and deal 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 understood it wasn't truly me they liked, primarily I felt a little safer that way. Like a man who enjoyed me wouldn't hurt me, you understand? I was in love with my daddy. That had actually changed too and I don't understand if one thing had to do with the other precisely, however I don't believe in coincidence either. I 'd made love 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 maybe. However a great deal of them didn't mind calling me Samantha either, and that troubled me in the beginning, however then it didn't and I began liking it.
I might close my eyes and think of the man who was making love to me truly was my daddy. I could talk to him, tell him I enjoyed him, how he made me feel grown-up and unique and loved. I was falling in love, in grown-up love, and I could not help it.
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