It had survived the civil war with almost no damage. That was the case even though it was stopping point for a different kind of underground railroad....It was a way station for the spies and other operatives headed north by boat into New York and Boston.The bar had been a fancy dining room in those days. At the time of my visit it was just a bar that served sandwiches. Still they had managed to find and replace some of the decor. "Hello Crissy," I said as I entered. I had to speak since she was. Then I remembered that his shoeshad to come off. I struggled with them, removed his slacks, and shakilyunbuttoned his shirt. At last I had him down to just his shorts. It wassuch a contrast, his fit body with natural hair on it, and my unathleticform, hairless and so sissy. I couldn't even manage masculine bodylanguage. My wrists were limp and I was flapping my hands in agitation.The weeks had taken their toll on me."So?" He pointed to his boxers. "Are you afraid of what's under. More

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