Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author: Lizard69
Title: Foster Whore
Part: Part 4
Keywords: Mg
Summary: Building a client list.
This is a work of fiction.  If you have trouble with the boundary

between fact and fantasy, don't read it.  If non-consensual sex between
adult men and a young girl freaks you out, don't read it.  Do not under any
circumstances forward this file to anyone that hasn't specifically
requested it.  In case you haven't figured it out yet this is intended as
*adult* entertainment.  Do not allow it to be accessed by minors.  If you
have inadvertently downloaded it in a jurisdiction where such material
isn't legal please delete it immediately.  Do not re-post in whole or in
part without this notice.  Do not repost on any "for profit" site without
my specific written permission.  Copyright 2012 by Lizard69.

   Foster Whore Part 4 Building a Client List (Mg) Lizard69



   "Ok, What's the deal?"

   "Bill gave me a name and a number.  He also said you should probably
chaperon, at least the first time."

   "Did he tell you anything about the man?"

   "Not much.  He's a music teacher, thirty-something, a tall skinny nerd
but otherwise average everything.  He'll expect to hear from me tomorrow
afternoon."

   "Excellent!"

   Amber gave her foster mom a dull stare.  While letting some horny
pervert fuck her certainly wasn't anything new, she couldn't see what Mary
was so fired up about.

   "Come on girl, *think*.  What's the biggest problem with running an
illegal business?"

   "Not getting caught I guess."

   "Yep, That's why I don't want clients meeting you here.  This town is
really tight about what sort of businesses you can run out of a residence.
Bill rents office space downtown even though he does a lot of his work
online and on the phone from here.  It helps him present an image too.  In
an office his clients see an expert consultant who is obviously doing well,
not just some guy operating from his basement.  It's an extra expense but
it pays for itself several times over by letting him charge higher fees.

   "Unfortunately you don't have that option.  Any legitimate business run
by a twelve year old girl, generating enough revenue to pay for office
space, is going to be big news.  You might as well let them do you on bus
stop benches.  You wouldn't get caught any quicker.  To stay, 'under the
radar', you need a plausible excuse to visit each of your clients.  So,
what sort of adults does a kid normally come in contact with?"

   Amber thought for a moment.

   "Parents."

   "Uh-huh, and other family, close or extended.  Who else?"

   "Friends?  Neighbors?"

   "Most kids don't have close adult friends.  Friends of the family and
adult neighbors generally won't spend a lot of time with kids unless
they're asked to babysit or supervise some activity.  You're home schooled
so maybe it isn't so obvious.  How about teachers?"

   "Teachers?"

   "Uh-huh.  A regular school teacher has a combined student load for all
classes of maybe a couple hundred kids.  Even if there was time for some
uh, 'one on one', there are very strict rules regarding how they deal with
students.  Setting up a situation where they are alone with an individual
student and have a reasonable expectation of privacy is practically a
firing offense.  It's just too easy for something inappropriate to happen.
Even if they're the target of a groundless complaint, anything regarding
pedophilia is so completely unacceptable that it's practically a case of
guilt by accusation.  The only effective defense is to avoid every
situation where something *could* happen.

   "However, certain specialists are in a different position.  Private
tutors, coaches for individual athletics rather than team sports, single
subject instructors like music teachers, often work unsupervised with
individual students.  Since you're being home schooled it makes perfect
sense that you would get specialist instruction.  Perhaps even mentoring
from a person not normally considered an educator.  How do you feel about
learning to play an instrument?"

   "Why?  Ohhh!  Now I get it."

   "About time!  If you're showing up once a month on a more or less random
basis it might raise eyebrows.  If you're there on a set schedule once or
twice a week you'll blend in with the rest of his pupils.  It doesn't make
sense to do that just for, 'cover'.  Besides, learning to play an
instrument is part of a complete education.  You don't have to play at
concert level.  Even if you never get good enough that you'd want anyone
else to hear you, there is a special satisfaction to be had from the
ability to make music."

   "I thought your idea of home schooling was all about making money?"

   "It is.  Think for a minute.  What's going to make you richer, doing
something you hate that pays well, or doing something that you love so much
your whole life revolves around it?"

   "Doing something I like I guess."

   "Good guess.  You need to experiment, to try new things, find out what
life has to offer.  You'll be doing that as long as you live but now is
special."

   "Special how?"

   "You're still a kid.  The whole world is new to you.  You've got us
covering your expenses so you can try things without worrying about the
groceries.  Music is only a start.  How'd you like to learn a foreign
language?  Bill and I like to travel.  Would you rather be sitting in a
classroom studying geography, or haggling with a street vendor in Bangkok?
How about art?  Maybe your talent lies in buying and selling rather than
creating it but how will you know until you try?"

   "Sounds like I'm going to be busy."

   "As busy as you want to be.  If you decide to sit in a corner and drool,
I'll buy you a bib and leave you alone, but I'm not going to encourage
that. We have a nice sized flat screen in the living room and a larger one
downstairs.  It took you about ten minutes to find out we don't have cable
or satellite.  We have a pretty good movie library and a fiber optic
internet connection.  You have better access to information without leaving
the house than the most expensive college on earth could deliver ten years
ago.  That's one leg of the tripod.

   "Another leg is experience.  All the information in the world is useless
until you get off your butt and put it to work for you.  You learn a
language by speaking it.  You learn business through buying and selling. 
You learn to cook in the kitchen, not sitting at the table.

   "The final leg is people.  No matter what your interest, there are
others that share it.  But nobody is interested in exactly the same things
as anyone else.  Making a connection in one area often leads to exploring
other subjects.  Most kids your age are spending their days confined to a
classroom with kids of similar age and background.  The opportunities for
useful social networking are pretty limited.  Home schooled kids have the
advantage of working outside the system.  You have an extra advantage. 
There may be a large number of sexually active twelve year old girls.  As a
percentage of the population it's still a pretty small pool."

   "I'm not sure if you or Bill is crazier.  I can understand that he wants
to get his dick wet.  Why am I supposed to think that's a good thing?"

   "When I found out what sort of pervert I married we came close to
splitting up.  Instead he talked me into doing some research and trying to
understand what life was like for him.  My personal tipping point was
understanding that having a sexual preference had nothing to do with making
a choice.

   "I'm sure you think you've been dealt a pretty bad hand so far and I'm
inclined to agree.  But you can still have something like a normal life. 
You can meet some guy, fall in love, break up, and repeat the process until
you find somebody right for you.  Bill can't.  His sexual ideal, his
ultimate hotness, is a girl just entering puberty.  A woman built like me
is an acceptable alternate, but not his *first* choice.  Not only is there
a huge mob of normal people ready to pound him flat if they discover what
he's searching for, he will never find it for long.  When the hormones kick
in you could fill out almost overnight.  Even if you somehow keep your
waifish figure you're going to mature until he loses interest.  Two years,
maybe four, and he'll be looking for your little sister.  How long would
you last risking everything to find what you want most, knowing in advance
it will be snatched away from you if you do somehow manage to find it?"

   "Ok, that is a raw deal, but it's his raw deal.  Why should I care?"

   "It's an opportunity to make connections with adults.  So what if
they're all baby raping perverts.  Because their preference isn't a choice,
that's the only thing they'll have in common.  For anything else they could
be a crowd of people picked at random.

   "Lets say you went to a restaurant downtown during the lunch hour. 
Suppose you found a stock broker eating alone and started asking him
questions.  If you were polite and made a serious effort to ask worthwhile
questions while showing genuine interest in his answers, he'd probably talk
to you.  At least if he's any good at his job.  People like to talk about
things they do well.  He might even give you his card and tell you to call
if you have more questions.  But a half hour is about the most you'd get
and if you called he might have his secretary blow you off, tell you he's
out of the office or something.  You might be a client someday but right
now you're just a kid.

   "Now, imagine you're with the same guy but you're lying next to him
naked.  You've just finished having sex.  Instead of being in a hurry to
chase him away, you're playing with his chest hair and asking about what
*else* he does well.  'Well adjusted pervert', sounds like one of those
weird contradictions, but just like normal people some are more tightly
wrapped than others.  Bill has pretty thoroughly come to terms with what he
is.  I'd bet most of them will have a seriously awkward, 'Oh My God I just
fucked a *kid*', moment right after they finish.  If there are other ways
you can relate to him as something more than just a kid it will go a long
way towards making things easier.

   "You're not looking for a boyfriend old enough to be your father.  You
could make it a purely business transaction.  But if you can make him part
of your social network as well it will pay off in a hundred different
ways."

   "What do you mean?"

   "Let's take that imaginary stock broker as an example.  Real soon now
you're going to have some decent cash flow and it will get heavier as you
become more skilled.  You're going to need ideas about what to do with it."

   "Spend it?"

   Mary shot her a dirty look.

   "Let's get something straight right now.  If I give you money for a
specific purpose, you damn well better spend it for that purpose and no
other.  I'll expect a receipt and the change if any.  It's not your money.
You're acting as my agent, using my funds to complete a transaction I've
approved.

   "Money you earn is different.  It doesn't matter how you make the money,
doing household chores, delivering papers, weeding somebodies garden,
whatever.  The money is *yours*.  What you do with it is your decision.

   "I'm trying to teach you a game called business.  It's not the only game
in town but it's so big it's hard to avoid playing at some level.  Even
hermits have to eat.  How much money you control determines what level you
get to play at.  People putting together multi-million dollar deals don't
have a lot of time to waste on two hundred dollar transactions.  But when
you're just getting started those two hundred dollar transactions add up
pretty fast.

   "Bill is certain he can keep you booked up at ten hours a week.  I don't
want you working any more than that, but I'm willing to let you give Bill
his time outside the limit.  That's two thousand a week, around a hundred
thousand a year.  If you live like a normal kid and invest it wisely that
will put you more than half way to your first million before you're old
enough to drive.  If you goof off, don't study, don't learn anything
useful, and blow through the money as fast as it comes in, you'll hit the
street at eighteen with a hundred thousand a year lifestyle and nothing but
your ass to support it.  Ten years later you'll be a clapped out gutter
slut that isn't worth twenty bucks a throw.  If that's what you really want
I can't stop you but I'll be damned if I'll help."

   "If I have to chose I guess I'd rather be rich."

   "Good choice, especially if you change your mind later.  It's a heck of
a lot easier to blow a fortune than suddenly decide to get rich.  So, back
to the music teacher.  Is there any particular instrument you'd like to
learn?"

   "How about guitar?"

   "That might be a good choice.  Think about others too.  Mandolins have a
nice sound and they are a lot smaller to lug around.  Banjo is kind of
limited to country and bluegrass.  Bass is nice if you ever have to fall
back on playing for a living."

   "Why?"

   "Most of the people trying to put a band together play guitar or
keyboard.  A good solid bass player who isn't hung up on any one style of
music can always find work."

   "I thought spreading my legs was plan B."

   "It might be interesting to discover how many, 'nice girls', secretly
consider selling their ass an option of last resort if life should deal
them a crap hand.  There's no way to get any sort of firm estimate. 
Everybody has a different definition of, 'last resort'.  Fortunately most
of them will never have to find out how little their money maker is
actually worth."

   "I thought you said $200 an hour was serious money?"

   "It is.  And a young hottie who knows how to stroke a mans ego as well
as everything else can expect to do even better than that.  But it's only
worth that much for a prime product in limited supply.  A middle aged,
middle class housewife trying to turn a quick trick before picking the kids
up at soccer practice isn't going to get that much.  She's a long way from
seventeen and probably wasn't in any danger of being nominated for prom
queen back in the day.  If money is so tight her whole garden club is
turning tricks on the side, they'll be lucky to get twenty dollars for it.
If teenagers are giving it away for pocket money Mrs.  middle class isn't
going to get a serious offer unless he's into some really twisted shit, or
has some specific reason to be after *her* ass.  In either case he's bad
news looking for a place to happen."

   "So you're saying that if any girl can, the only thing that makes it
valuable is that most girls don't?"

   "You've got it!  If you're looking for a way to make a living during
hard times, develop a valuable skill, preferably something that requires
both talent and training.  Now, about that music teacher..."

   The farm house was on the edge of town but off the main road.  When a
large grower had bought up several smaller operations he'd sold the houses
on decent sized lots and kept the fields.  The current owner could have
rented a store front in town for his business, but with the nearest
neighbor a quarter mile down the road the sound of student musicians wasn't
going to bother anyone.

   He'd met Bill in college on a night that he should have been drunk
enough to pull a blank.  Instead he recalled the other man steering him
firmly away from a pair of girls that could have ruined him.  They had
overheard their older sisters talk about partying with college boys and
decided to try it themselves.  The other people at the frat party thought a
couple of kids pretending to be eighteen was cute and let them think they
were getting away with it.  Some of the guys even started jokingly flirting
with them.  The kids were drunk enough to take it seriously.  He was
guiding one of them to an empty bedroom when Bill intercepted them.  As a
result he was home alone and unconscious when the police pulled a couple of
nearly naked *twelve* year old girls out of the frat house.

   The next day he took some good natured razzing about being at that
party. Most of it he deflected by pretending that he was drunker than he
had actually been, until Bill caught him between classes and took him
aside.

   "Ok Carl, I'm not going to make any threats or accusations so shut up
and listen to what I'm saying.  If you break a law, *any* law, long enough
you're going to get caught.  If you're drunk or drugged it will happen that
much sooner.  In any case it will happen sooner or later.  When it does,
whether you go to prison or not will have nothing to do with what you did.
Everything will depend on how hard it is to get a conviction.  A serial
killer who was the last person seen with three different victims will still
be walking the streets, while some poor drunk who stepped into an alley to
take a leak is doing time for whipping it out in front of a yard full of
kids.

   "Over 85% of all criminal cases are settled via plea bargain some time
before the jury renders a verdict.  Limit your activities to people who
have no love for cops, or better yet a compelling reason *not* to talk to
cops.  Take care to clean up after yourself and not to leave physical
evidence.  Don't do anything on public property.  Don't do anything where
you can be observed from public property or private property you don't
control.  Don't say *anything* to a cop past identifying yourself and
requesting a lawyer.  Last, after you've made this advice part of your
normal lifestyle, don't get cocky.  Difficult to prosecute isn't immune
from prosecution.  Think of it as damage control implemented in advance and
pray none of it ever really matters."

   He'd seen Bill a few more times before earning his degree.  They'd been
friendly but hardly buddies.  It caught him completely off guard when some
years after graduation Bill called regarding a land contract on the farm
house.  The price was insane, as if they'd sold him the bare plot and
knocked off the cost of having the house removed.  Even a newly minted
music teacher could afford the payments.  True, he'd done a lot of
remodeling, but the place was habitable from day one.  Now, a couple years
later a call about a, "special", student.

   He had plenty of time to check her out while discussing lesson plans and
choice of instrument.  Amber certainly didn't appear to be anything
special. She'd reached that gawky coltish stage girls hit just before they
blossom.  Her loose blouse and shorts weren't what anyone would call sexy,
but light enough to reveal a hint of the curves to come.  Once or twice he
thought he caught a little bit of a secretive smile, as if she knew he was
looking and didn't mind the attention.  Eventually Mary cut him a check for
the first months lessons and instrument rental, then announced that she'd
be testing a comfortable bench on his deck while they discussed any
remaining issues.

   "Well Carl, have you figured it out yet?"

   "I'm, uh, not sure what you're talking about."

   "Then you haven't.  For thirty-five dollars I'll explain the whole
thing. You can think it over and if you decide it wasn't the best money you
ever spent, I'll give you a full refund when I show up for my first lesson
Friday."

   Under other circumstances he might not have taken a chance.  In this
case he'd already made that much several times over on the lessons Mary had
bought.  Without another word he pulled out his wallet and passed her the
money.

   "Ok, you're mostly a decent guy who gives music lessons and I'm mostly a
normal twelve year old kid.  We could just leave it at that but the way
we're different from normal people might lead to something interesting. 
Mom started letting creeps do stuff to me when I was eight.  Then she died
and I got bumped from one foster home to another.  Some were pretty bad,
others were worse.  Now that I'm with Bill and Mary I don't have to do
anything with anybody.  It's great!

   "This is going to sound kind of weird.  A couple of times, the creeps
who were making me do stuff, really weren't that creepy.  They weren't
*nice*.  Nice guys don't force little girls to strip naked and fuck grown
up perverts.  But at least they acted like I was human, not just some kind
of meat puppet to stick it in.  One or two of them actually seemed to like
me.  They still made me do it, but they tried hard to make it nice for me
too, and were sorry I couldn't enjoy it the way they did.  So anyway, I got
to thinking.  If I was with a guy who wanted me really bad, and he was nice
about it, and I didn't *have* to do anything, it might be kind of fun."

   "Uh-huh, and now you're looking for this guy?"

   "Yeah, but now that I get to pick who to do it with I can be really
choosy.  If he doesn't want it bad enough to pay $200 an hour, he doesn't
want it bad enough.  If he's a creep it doesn't matter how much money he
has, he can go play with himself.  I don't have to do anything with
anybody. If he wants anything extra special we have to find some way to
make it special for me too.  Are you interested?"

   "Maybe.  Are you talking about right now?"

   "Mary's waiting for me, but we have time to see if you can pass the
creep test.  Take my hand."

   She held up one hand, palm down, and laid it across his.

   "See how small it is compared to yours?  How thin?  I'm five foot
nothing and eighty pounds.  Can you imagine how scary it is sometimes for
me to be alone with a grown up pervert?  Now use the fingers of your other
hand to touch the back of mine.  That's it, soft and gentle, experiment a
little with different touches.  Maybe this isn't anything special to you.
It should be.  I can let you touch me there and not be shy or embarrassed
or afraid somebody might walk in.  You can show me how you'd like to touch
my private places.  And if you do it just right, it sends a shiver up my
arm that makes me wish you were petting my kitty instead.

   "What kind of guy are you?  Are you a big kid looking for a girl who
plays doctor?  Does it scare you that I'm so tiny, or is that part of the
excitement?  Maybe you like secrets.  Can you imagine seeing me at the mall
or the park and wondering what other people would think if they knew what
you know?  Maybe you wouldn't be the only guy.  Some of the creeps made
videos that got sold and traded.  Any time some guy looks at me a little
too long I wonder if he's seen me before.

   "Does it bother you that you're not the first?  It took a long time to
open me up enough that creeps could do it to me like a big girl.  That
wasn't much fun.  Wouldn't you rather be the guy who teaches me how to
enjoy it?"

   "Oh Christ!  If you keep this up I'll cum in my pants!"

   Amber smiled at him as she released his hand.

   "Ok, you passed the creep test.  I'm pretty sure that no matter how
horny you get, you won't try to make me do stuff.  I'll never say yes to
anything with anybody unless I can be sure he'll listen when I say no.  My
first lesson is Friday.  That's two days from now.  I know you're going to
be thinking about me...  a lot, between now and then.  There's something
you can do for me.  It won't be easy.  I would like our first session to be
really extra special.  You don't have to make any promises.  I'll
understand if you just can't resist the urge to play with yourself.  But if
you can hold off and not cum until Friday, I'll do something with you that
I only do for really special people."
   End Part 4