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It turns out I liked being an escort, a lot more than I believed I would anyway. I even began taking the money, mostly since I was much too useful to let a little thing like regret get in the way of common sense. However then, if I had the common sense I wouldn't 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 women do.
I hadn't been a little girl in a long time though.
I only worked 3 or four nights a week anyway, given that I had to be house by 9 pm on school nights and ten o'clock on weekends. But Deke didn't mind, he said that was a good idea due to the fact that he might actually charge more, especially if the guy I was choosing selected me up at school. That opportunity turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars additional, although I didn't actually like it. I was constantly scared somebody would see me entering a weird automobile, a various unusual car whenever, and wonder what was going on.
I 'd been doing it for practically two months already, and I 'd lost track of how many people I 'd made love with. I didn't need to know, but it needed to be a lot. I 'd made a great deal of cash too. Way too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. He charged 300 dollars an hour for me, or 500 dollars for 2. Picking me up at school deserved an additional 200, which I thought was outrageous, however you 'd be surprised the number of guys wanted exactly that. Like it proved beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an minor slut to suck and fuck . These were all older men too, like my daddy's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mainly. They had a lot of cash to invest and it was the tips that really flushed my bank account. Deke provided me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous due to the fact that he was my supervisor, my representative, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He bought my clothes and the stuff I need to work, like prophylactics and lube and scrap 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 given that I had to actually like these guys for an hour or two. I had to act more youthful sometimes too, as a little girl possibly eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. I liked acting though and I think I had a genuine skill for it.
Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt really guilty initially, but that had actually disappeared when I understood I wasn't hurting anyone. The men liked me for a bit, although a few of them liked me genuine and asked me if I 'd wed them, or a minimum of return to their cities and cope with them. However they loved who I pretended to be for that short time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely due to the fact that I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little more secure that way. Like a man who liked me wouldn't injure me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, many of them wanting 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 maybe.
I might close my eyes and imagine the man who was making love to me really was my dad. I could talk to him, inform him I liked him, how he made me feel special and developed and loved. And someplace, in some way along that trip, I 'd started to believe it. I 'd go house and see my real father and almost forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or two before. I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't assist it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his child but as his partner. We 'd done whatever however skilled our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?
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