Bad School Girl
by Jack Ryder
"How did you get my phone number?" I asked the barely legal teen from upstairs in the penthouse. "Daddy keeps the numbers for all of the people living in the high rise in his rolodex," she purred seductively. "My name is Breezy, but my friends all call me BJ," she told me softly. "I take it that it's not because of your initials based on what I saw in the garage," I chuckled.