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Harddaysknight is my mentor and gives me critical advice. Most of the tables were quads, and three of them were standup. She had long red hair, that sort of flaming orange you see sometimes. "I want to talk to you, find out how you're doing, tell you what I'm up to, ask how Kelly and Sam are doing, how Atlas is getting along and tell you some things. Am I that ugly that you can't stand the sight of me?

With the anonymity that writing erotica requires, it can be difficult. It had a mop of curly black hair about a foot long, fair skin, like Ripley's, very blue eyes, and she was the most beautiful little girl I had ever seen. She tried to avoid letting me look directly at her by hiding behind Ripley.

No doubt, many will think of authors who do not appear here. Please feel free to contact those authors and ask for a story. When Ripley stopped in front of me, the little shadow went around on the other side of her and held her hand.

These are the ones who responded and agreed to write.

We did make a good faith effort to contact as many of the legends as possible. Most areas of conversation that you would have with adults are just closed.

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Some of us now write professionally, some have retired and this may be the last story you see from some of us. I put "Rubber Soul" on and got a few beers, throwing them in the cooler with some ice. "Kaine, I'd like for you to meet Makenna," she said.

Some, may be, and have been, inspired to write more often. Don't move, now." She went back to her table and I saw her get her phone out of her purse. I had no idea what the big guns were, and absolutely no interest in finding out. I was enjoying the hell out of the pizza, leaning back on the lounge chair, listening to the Beatles when I heard the gate close. "Makenna, this is Kaine." I really had no idea what to say, so I stuck out my hand.

Many others were contacted, but either declined, or did not respond. Such writers as Josephus, The Celt and Castle Stone come to mind, and we mourn their passing.

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