WOMAN HOT SEX

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

Heterosexuality

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

Julia

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

Fuel Cables

‘Granted. ‘
‘Quite,’ and I crossed my legs smartly.
‘However,’ he paused. ‘As the captain of this craft - and this is something I tell all my female passengers I do not allow the crossing of legs once airborne.’
‘Oh, shut up. You make me want to puke, stefan.’ He laughed delightedly.
‘I’ll bet you had someone sitting in this seat with her legs propped open all the way to Frankfurt and back last week.’
‘Convenient for you to believe that, I suppose. Now if you’ve finished bitching?’
The plane banked steeply into a turn. I closed my eyes listening for the engines to cut out and for us to roll into a  figure-of-eight. Nothing happened. I opened my eyes. The plane had leveled out.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I’ve turned back. The idea of the Yorkshire Dales suddenly bores me.’
‘It’s me that bores you.’ I was sorry I had said that, but since I had I pressed on.
‘In fact the only way you could face today the chief recommends was to pretty up the occasion with a “touch of the bizarre “.’
‘I had other reasons.’
‘You just couldn’t take me neat. Just had to shake me up into a fancy cocktail.’
‘Of course I can take you neat. I can eat your twat on toast anytime I want.’ He slammed his headset on and readjusted the mouthpiece.
Clouds closed in on cue. I had never known a situation reach a high and then plummet to an all-time low with such speed. One minute I was traveling with a super luminary and the next with a foul-mouthed runt. One week I was a coveted prize and the next a twat on toast. I struggled valiantly to stave off a feeling of utter worthlessness. It was very hard work. In the end the best I could do was to imagine myself receiving a cheque for five thousand pounds for winning a poetry competition. I would take Catha to some far-off exotic. ..Lying down beside her on the beach she unwinds her sarong, a carelessly cut piece of Liberty voile which she spreads on the warm sand of Barbados, Bermuda, Morocco or somewhere with palm trees, hibiscus and humming birds and. There was observe the wolf snag, I remembered, I had submitted a blank piece of A4 to the relevant competition. I began to feel gloomier than before. I stole a glance at Stefan talking to control tower again to say he was being forced to rejoin in five minutes. How could the passionate urgency of his behavior last week have vanished without trace? Had he really no recall of the promises he had forced me to make? Having claimed victory was he going to disregard the loot? Or pretend to? That was it. He was cooling things to the point where I would remind him of my promises and beg him to see that they were carried through. Well, I owed it to myself to resist that. I owed it to Catha too. But I did dread finding that my resistance had weakened him.
‘Stefan?’ I put my hand on his thigh.
He ignored me to speak to control again. We were beginning our descent. No gesture I made, nothing I said would ever make him deviate from his chosen path. And it was my love that had conferred on him the divine right of a medieval monarch. His was a power of life and death, and he had used this flight to demonstrate that. Well, soon my life would be all my own again. No more ups and downs, no more spectacular risks, or flashy sky-fucks. It would be a good life. Boring but good. An arid desert but peaceful. A rotten night sleep grey featureless landscape as smooth as glass but. I did not want to land on it. Ever. I would rather crash now.
‘Stefan,’ I yelled pointing to where the propeller, slowed as both engines cut out.
‘I’ve stalled it. Only for a moment. Listen.”
The silence shrieked with wind. The aerodrome with its hangers, car-parks and runways began to magnify and spread across my field of vision. The power of thought is awesome. If I had said I wanted to crash, I did not mean it. If I had over-dramatised my life, I swore, given the chance, that I never would again.
Before Stefan had shut down the engines, undid his seat-belt and slid back the roof, Harry was running towards us across the grass.
‘What happened?’ As the new owner of the plane he had ever reason to be concerned.
Stefan scratched his head. ‘Fuel cables? Something in the electrics?’ He did not bother to sound particularly convincing. As I tried to stand up he steadied me.
‘The lady looks shaken. You take her for chrissake a drink while I have a look at this. ‘Harry was already dodging round the plane, patting its underside and lifting flaps.
Stefan shrugged and grinned at me. ‘Whatever it was, don’t worry, Harry. It was nothing much.’
Once on the ground a cool breeze between my legs made me shiver. Stefan took my arm and we began to walk towards the club house. He paused. ‘One last look at her, , and turned back to his plane. He pointed to the tail. There was something white and crumpled stuck there. My pants were glued with our come to the tail. I hoped Harry would not notice.
‘Hey, Harry, ‘Stefan called. ‘Look on the tail. I think I hit a bird or something. I’d investigate.’
There is truth in the notion that the most sophisticated of men can also be the most childish. This one sniggered all the way to the bar, slopping his feet and with his hands the heart of paris cradled loosely in his pockets as though the joke with Harry had made him weak. He stood and grinned at the young barman waiting to serve us as though bereft of speech. He glanced sideways at me to see if I would betray my irritation. And certainly, with my two feet firmly on the ground. I was tempted to make a severe reappraisal of his character. He was an overgrown whiz- kid with psychopathic tendencies. He dressed himself with a few flashy accessories, a plane, a yacht, a big cock, oh, and an attractive woman to trail after him like some teenage groupie. But that description hardly fitted me. If I was following him now that was only because he was heading for the bar and I was very thirsty. I asked if there was any white wine ion the fridge. Only Yugoslavian Liebfraumilch. That was perfect. Stefan scowled, reminding me how quickly his mood could swing.
‘Is there any cassis?’
‘No, sir.’ The young man placed two wine glasses on the bar between us.
‘Perrier water then.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The barman filled the two own glasses with wine and then obeyed Stefan’s hand signal to leave the bottle on the bar. Stefan waited till he had turned back to the fridge before telling him.

Petite-Bourgeoisette

Psycho-Ops

Remember celebrating

Seafood Filling

Self-Discipline

Self-Immolation

Seymour Warned

Seymour

Socio Economic

Soul Love

Stefan to Alison

Stefan winked.

Stefan

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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