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<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":""You say love my hair," she said, "but you don’t do anything with it."<\/p>\n
She was right. I loved long hair. It’s a woman’s glory. She had soft silky black hair and I had taken it for granted. I liked looking at it. I liked knowing it belonged to me. I felt proud of it. But I had done nothing with it. I had taken it for granted. I had gotten lost in all her other splendors.<\/p>\n
I reached out and started running my fingers through her hair.<\/p>\n
She looked up at me, all soft and trusting and wanting to be stroked.<\/p>\n
"Daddy’s home," I purred.<\/p>\n
Khunrum emails my Advisory Committee: "Boys, what’s with the soft core drivel Luke is posting these days? Will his next literary offering be a bad Romance Novel? This might have been hot stuff a hundred years ago but for for 2009 it’s zzzzzzz!"<\/p>\n
I’m stretching creatively. To write great, you have to allow yourself room to fail.<\/p>\n
Khunrum emails: "I’d say you failed brother. I believe the only person interested in that type of writing would be a failed Nun. What’s next? Spice it up a bit boy."<\/p>\n
Helpful writes: I fully support Luke’s new genre choice. Rip that bodice, Luke. Rip that bodice!<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
"You say love my hair," she said, "but you don’t do anything with it." She was right. I loved long hair. It’s a woman’s glory. She had soft silky black hair and I had taken it for granted. I liked … Continue reading