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

Catha Suddenly

At least I had had time to change-almost.  My sweat shirt, baggy denims and tennis shoes gave no hint of the shutters seamed black stockings, frilly suspender belt and miniscule pants- diamante framing the patch of my pubic hair-which I still wore underneath. In this gathering I had no wish to be seen as the stereotyped sex object of pregnancy-feminist days.  I glanced along the gaunt brave faces of my sisters and friends. No lipstick in sight.  I was glad Stefan had eaten mine off and I had had no time to replace it. Stefan had gone to Frankfurt.  I tried not to think of it.  I looked down along the row of tennis shoes and scruffy sandals and realized my own tennis shoes looked down along the row of tennis shoes and scruffy sandals and realized my own tennis shoes looked new and expensive.  Surreptitiously I scuffed the sole of one on the upper of the other to dirty it.  Still, even new tennis shoes were more de vigueur in this setting than the high heels I had been wearing when I went to visit Stefan for the last time this afternoon.  Stefan liked high heels.  The idea was simple- if the heels were high enough, one small push and the girl  would  fall over.  I had fallen.  Among the friends I was with this evening  the same high heels represented the same idea and therefore met with their disapproval. I understood both points of view.
            Catha suddenly leant  towards the chief recommends  me and smiled.  She kissed my cheek. I blushed  as she put a cool hand to my face.  I felt sinful.  My behaviour was nothing short of treason.  I could feel the wetness of Stefan’s last come between my legs.  All the way to the concert hall I had enjoyed the feeling  of his cold semen as I had walked along.  Now I was here all I could hope for was that I did  not smell of male sex.  You see, in feminist terms, Catha was a separatist.  That is to say, she no longer kept  company with men.  She had become a political lesbian.  I felt sorry for her but at the same time I admired her enormously.  As she took her hand from my cheek  I looked longingly at her strong ringless hands with their squared off nails.  I turned the sapphires of my ring inside my hand so that only the gold band  showed.  I  cursed myself for buying a Cutex Nail Repaid Kit after I had split my nail helping Stefan to close his trunk.  Ah, Stefan –you again.  And when I fell on the bed he had said , ‘How dare you come to me wearing all these clothes.  On your next visit your wear  nothing underneath your coat.  All the way to see me you feel the  cool breeze on your cunt.  And when you reach me you go down on your  back open the coat, open the legs and.’  He had laughed and kissed me gently.  I had laughed too, but I could not help feeling bewildered.  Only the week before, he had told me he was getting into bondage and as traditional female underwear was an interesting understatement of bondage….Well, there I was all dressed up in it.  It seems there is no pleasing everyone all the time.  And certainly my sisters would not have approved of either the dressed of the undressed version of stefan’s woman. 
            Catha’s mouth was close to my ear, ‘Have you read the programme note, darling?’
I glanced down sadly at the single Roneoed sheet in my lap. It said something about the exploitation of Women in Bolivian Tin Mines and that this was to be a concert given by Women, of music composed by Women. Apart from the Tin Mine business the concert appeared to be dedicated to Mozart’s sister. There followed a quote from Virginia Woolf. I looked up as two violinists, a cellist and a pianist made their way onto the bare stage. Catha smiled encouragingly, so I felt obliged to read on. ‘I would venture to guess that Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman. It was a woman. ..who made the ballads and folk songs, crooning them to her children, beguiling her spinning with them, or the length of the winter’s night. (A Room of One’s Own V. Woolf.)’ Just in case this premise of Ms Woolf’s was wrong I hoped all the music was not to be petite bourgeoisette by Anon. But, glancing down the programme I was pleased to see music by-Catha’s finger pointed to the name - Alma Mahler.
‘Stunning musician,’ Catha whispered.
Those on the .stage were beginning to tune up.
‘Did you know Mahler refused to marry her unless she promised him she would never write another note?’



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

Today the Chief recommends

You Basterd