Milk--it's what a growing girl needs!

I showed her to the kitchen, and she sat down at my table. "Got milk?"

I poured her a glass and sat down next to her. She had leaned back in her chair and propped her feet up. "So what should I call you anyway?"

"John, or Johnny if you like."

"Sure." She raised her glass in agreement, and some of her milk spilled onto her shirt. The wet fabric clung to her body, and I could tell that she wasn't wearing a bra underneath. "Whoops," she said with a husky chuckle. "Better be careful Johnny or I might spill some on my skirt, too."