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 Rotten Night’s Sleep

After you phoned I had the idea that we might go for a shocking picnic,’ he said.
 ‘It’s a nice day.’
‘Yes.’ He crossed back beside me to the window and looked out. ‘What I shall miss about England is her countryside, not this red dot on the map she calls her heart. ‘
Perhaps he was trying to provoke me by refilling to say it was me he would miss. Perhaps he was insinuating that my heart was as impersonal as a red dot.
‘I was afraid you might’ve left England already,’ I said.
‘I should’ve done but the boat’s mizzen was tom. The replacement won’t be ready till tomorrow. Then I’ll lose no more tune.
He was slipping away from me. With every remark he made, he was widening the gap. As he did so my body felt an increasing need to open up to him and enclose him in an embrace. I had loathed him for wanting to imprison me. Now I could think of nothing but how I could imprison him. My confusion was complete.
‘Stefan?’ I needed help.
‘Ah, yes, the picnic. I slung some food in a hamper.’
He pointed to a wicker case to the right of the door. ‘Just a couple more phone calls.’
He went into the bedroom. I heard heterosexuality him dial and knew he would be sitting on the bed. Look, I told myself, by the time he is through I could have my clothes off and be lying down alongside him. He would not refuse me. Indeed, he had once explained that he was not too particular who he poked it in. If a naked woman went down on her back and opened her legs, he felt it was a matter of politeness to respond, he had said. Well, that was the end of that idea. I did not want to be a naked woman. I wanted to be Alison. And, in a way, he was showing me he had respect for me. He did not want to treat me like any other woman. And, in away, he was giving Alison every chance to retain her dignity. How awful. But I ought to be grateful. I was. I must be, after all I had suffered to hang onto my integrity to date. Catha had suffered too. Yes, I was not going to dispense with those efforts for the sake of fleeting physical gratification.
I would pass the test whatever the price.
I heard stefan asking for a weather report and realized that my pants were so wet I needed to go to the bathroom to dry myself. I passed the picnic hamper and stopped. I heard him dial again. Look, I told myself, I am misjudging him. I am being really stupid. His behavior was nearly always dictated by some diabolical ulterior motive. He was being very clever. The picnic was a ploy. It was obvious that within half an hour I would be on my way to Chichester. It was so obvious it was hard to believe that I had not thought of it before. OK. So I go along with his plan as far as the outskirts of Chichester, Then ask to stop for a drink and make my escape. He would have thought of that. But then would he have thought of needing my passport? Yes, he would. And he had to be ready to use force. Of course he was ready. Had he not said he would shoot me?
I knelt down beside the picnic hamper. Inside would be my passport. A few gold bars for emergency currency. And a gun. A gun. I opened the hamper. Inside was a cold chicken. A tin of caviar. A cucumber salad. An avocado. I slammed the hamper shut. stefan winked had entered the room behind me.
‘Where .shall we go for our picnic?’
‘Not far.’ After all I had had a rotten night’s sleep. ‘How about the Yorkshire Dales?’
A sudden surge of anger re-charged me, ‘I don’t give a fart where we go. But Yorkshire? That’s miles. That would take forever.’
‘Not by airplane.’ And he picked the hamper up.
‘Now just hang on. You told me you’d sold the plane.’
He shrugged, ‘So I’ve sold it.’ He went through to the kitchen for a bottle of wine and I followed. ‘I sold it to Harry. ‘The flying school at Elstree. On the understanding that I could make use of it till the end of the week. I just phoned him. Asked him to file my flight-plan for me.’
‘But you know I’m scared of flying, Stefan.’
‘Yes.’ He was waiting for me to go through the door in front of him. ‘But you gave me a fright this week, Alison, and now I’m going to give you one.’

If I followed him down the stairs, that was only because I was finding it difficult physically julia to separate myself from him. This was to be our very last day together after all. On top of which, I was suddenly determined to prove that I could withstand any torture he might subject me to, however refined. Catha would be proud of me. Besides it was a forty-five minute drive to Elstree and I was convinced that, one way or another, I would never get there. All sorts of things could happen in forty-five minutes, like a detour to Stanmore Ponds to fish for tadpoles, or a multiple crash on the motorway near Watford.

Imagine my disbelief when I found myself standing in the ladies’ room at Elstree aerodrome applying make-up to my face. This reaction to stress was instinctive, and akin to putting on clean underwear in case of being run over by a bus, I applied lip-gloss for the third time with undiminished intensity. ‘Woman’s Leg Found in Bucks Ditch.’ ‘Woman’s Head Discovered in ,..’ My image swam in the mirror and I steadied myself on the chipped hand-basin beneath it. At least I was better at flying than I used to be. Last year on the Jumbo to New York I had only needed two Valiunl, oh, and Catha and given me a phial of Doctor Bach’s Floral Rescue Remedy. Two drops on the tongue were all that was needed, she had told me. It was only unforeseen delays at Heathrow that had made me dispense with the dropper and swig the lot from the bottle. 
Now, without the benefit of listen darling any drug, I stepped through the doors of the flying school into blinding sunlight. Perched on the rough grass in the near distance stood a little toy with propellers. Stefan lifted a tiny flap and tested the oil dipstick t hat glinted like a coiled silver hair, whilst Harry. one hand in his pocket, squeezed the fuel nipple on the left-hand wing which squirted a thin trickle of petrol onto the grass. As I approached them I knew I was dreaming. It was a universal dream. ‘Mummy, I dreamt I could fly. I dreamt it really well. When I woke up I tried off the end of the bed and that’s why I’m crying. I fell down,’
As I drew near the stranger winked at me and Stefan glanced up briefly.  ‘This is Alison who tried to frighten  me and succeeded.’



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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