I pulled the blanket up on us both, covering us from our armpits to over our feet.“Thank you, Randall,” she said softly. “Your arms are so warm ... they feel nice around me. You won’t tell Lynn about this, will you?”She sounded more concerned than I thought she should, so I responded, “This will be our secret, just you and me, Beautiful.” The movie was over. I turned off the TV, and we fell asleep.We woke up, to Mom shaking my shoulder, “It’s time for bed, you two – come on. Dad turned on the. I knew how to write, maybe better than he did. Some people were hard-wired to dislike creativity or non-conformity, and felt it was their solemn duty to point out my errors. My harshest critics were other writers of erotica, something I didn't understand. They, of all people, should be more forgiving. Perhaps by denigrating my work it elevated theirs. That was fine. Their comments were given as much deliberation as my filing system for their emails - hitting the trash button.storyname=. More

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