I was born on a Sundayand mother always sang to me that little ditty about Sunday's child. Myparents, acting out of their faith and belief in the dign...ty of allmankind, were trusted white workers in that mysterious network known asthe Underground Railroad. Even after the War of Rebellion ended slavery,my modest mother never spoke much about that work. Of my own knowledge Iam aware of at least 20 fugitive slaves whom they helped on the road tofreedom and safety. When war began in April, 1861, my. She started to yawn and stretch. And before I could say anything. She looked over at me and she said “ hey stinky, remember me?.” I looked at her for a couple of seconds. The voice was familiar but the face and body were not. Still unsure who she was she said. “ it’s me Melissa, we grew up next door to each other.” I continued to look at her and her body since she did not cover up when she came out of the room. So she was standing totally naked. I finally said “ wow, you look so much different. .” I snicker. “Like... like a lady. Mmmmm.”“Instead of what? What did I smell like before?”“Well, honestly...” I think she'll take this the right way. “Like a dirty slut, like our dirty sex. But I liked that, too!”“Oh, there is still a dirty slut in here!” She laughs, pulling a bra cup away from her breast and the elastic of her panties away from her pubic mound. Then, she covers it all up with a very sensible-looking top and pair of slacks she retrieves from the hangers in the closet. As. The top edge of his boxers is on show, again. "I thought I might splash out you know." Cool man," a little gaggle of girls has just come in behind me and Jack is quickly distracted. "Shout if you need me."I nod glumly and wander off into the store. I don't really need any more clothes, I half live in Alpine Lodge polo's and there's only so many pairs of jeans and shorts a guy can need. It's not like I go out anywhere, or have anyone to go out with. I do end up with a new t-shirt, black with big.