A lovely girl

A Rotten Night's Sleep

A Shocking

A Shudder

A Side-Turning

A Struggling

All This Mainlining On Words

Cabinet Mirror

Catha Suddenly

Face Up

Fair Enough

Fair- Mindedness

Flying Buttress  in Bronze

For Chrissake

Fuel Cables

Full Of Echo's

Gold Chain Around His Neck

Half- Stefan Crossing

Having To Work


I Never Went Back

I Want To See You

In a Minute

In Frankfurt

In Hertfordshire

In Marxist

I could feel his tongue in my ear.

In Sussex

John Marx Stefanovitch


Kiss the envelope  for luck

Letter from Alison to Stefan

Letter  from Stefan to Alison

Listen Darling

Malleus malefactum

Mmmm' Noises.

Mortality In Relation

My Beloved

Nancy Friday

'Observe the wolf pack.

Our Relationship

Out- Stretched

Own Glass Still

A lovely girl

I must have looked even more depressed than I felt face up Catha put her arm round my shoulder protectively. I loved Catha at that moment and could not understand how or why I loved men. Particularly an MCP like Stefan. I tried even harder not to think of him. I wished I had had time to change properly and have a bath. Ah, his big thick pricks. But I was determined to listen to the music. The cellist had stopped tuning up and cleared her throat. Catha rested her cheek against my hair. Softly she spoke:
'My heart is like a singing bird
Whose nest his in a watered shoot;
My heart is like an apple tree
Whose boughs lire bent with thick-set fruit.'

A lovely girl with long auburn hair in front of us turned at that. Catha winked at her and she smiled. I could not smile; I 'felt too lousy. I mean about betraying these people who displayed the magic of their unadorned personalities heterosexuality with such ease. How I envied them their purity. I bent back the nail I had repaired with the Cutex Nail Repair Kit until I felt it split again. Now I was free of all thoughts that might hinder my enjoyment of the music. Unfortunately though, I have never found music much of an intellectual stimulant. For me it is a sensual and erotic experience. I best interpret music in sex terms of movement. But since movement, let alone dancing, is not socially acceptable at classical concerts, one has to do the next best thing: one has to, project oneself into a fantasy of dance.
That is why the violins had only played a few bars when found myself naked in a grove of silver birch. Then the cello urged me to lift my arms and rush through the trees so that silver leaves whipped against my unprotected breasts till I came to a sunlit clearing. Here I hesitated for a moment and glanced guiltily at.. Catha's intense face alongside me. But then I remembered she had come with me to see the film about Isadora Duncan and she had quite enjoyed it. This thought eased my conscience and anyway the sound of the piano had begun to suggest the nearness of a flowing stream. I danced with exquisite abandon, stretching my arms and legs to their limit, tossing my hair into a wild bush,gold chain around rolling my torso around the rough bark of the silver trees, snatching handfuls of grass to rub on my face and neck. Suddenly there was a movement among the trees. It was Stefan. The silver of his body in the pale sunlight seared my eyes. He lifted me and spun me until I was no longer a prisoner of gravity. He put me down and ran, pulling me behind him towards the stream. I knelt with him there and he pushed my face down into the crystal water. I could breathe in the water, and when he released the pressure of 'his hand it was some time- before I straightened up. Then I took long wet strands of my hair and stuffed them in his mouth to suck. We stood facing each other. Then he lifted me high above his head, one hand on my knee, the other on my crotch. He allowed one finger to slip into the opening of my vagina. then leave it just as slowly and surely as he lowered me, he allowed that finger to slip out and slide between the lips of my vulva to my clitoris. I gasped.
'You OK, darling? 'It was Catha. Oh God, how awful. And everyone was clapping. I clapped too. I nodded my head vigorously. Oh God, why was my life one huge heterosexual minefield?
'The Musgrave next,' Catha said, 'That's nice.'
I nodded. I had felt comfortable with Catha's arm around me but now I leant forward suddenly so she took her arm away. I was casting around for some way of reassuring myself. I found it. Why not classify the fantasy I had just indulged in as Fine Art? Indeed handled by a Diaghilev or a Kenneth Macmillan, with a touch of chiffon or ruche net - yes, I could hear the applause and see in sussex the bouquets being thrown. I felt so much better I took Catha's programme sheet off her lap. Very slowly during the next piece of music I used it for origami and made Catha a dove. She liked that.



Remember celebrating

Seafood Filling



Seymour Warned


Socio Economic

Soul Love

Stefan to Alison

Stefan winked.


Stefanovitch speaking

Straggers Backwards

The Best Nurturing

The Heart of Paris

The Insidiousness

The Myth of the Vaginal Orgasm,

The Priest and the Penitent

The Shutters

The Sorbonne

Then Leave It

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