Pool_1

"Not that way. You're trading on it, man. You're teaching little girls to trade on their private parts. Some of these children are swimming here totally naked. It's OK, they ain't sellin." Penchant argued, "Hey, I've learned more from these kids than anything they got from looking down Sally's cleavage." Sally smiled and waved, "Hi Washington. I love you when you're so virtuous," wiggling her top again. "No class," Benson just muttered as he walked away. "You know Marcus, if it weren't for your daddy, I'd think all white people had no class." "You KNOW my dad?" "Everybody in the projects knows Jazz Man. Class act. You play drums?" "No. Guitar." "Jazz?" with a hopeful smile? "A mix. Blues, some rock, and mostly, I don't know - I like Billie Holiday, not that that's guitar music, per se." "Ooo torch music. I can dig it. Fine. Fine. Bring your axe an let little Nella Brooks sing." "Pee wee, Nella? She sings?" "Pure honey. Sweet sweet su-weeeet. Do it." "OK. Sure. I need to get some new strings first." True, but Marcus really thought to himself that he had better practice a bit, just in case. But then again, these were just kids. He had impressed those boys on the porch enough to sell them ice cream by the tubs. Hmm?