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

Letter from Alison to Stefan

Stefan, your letter was brought   to me in frankfurt Bristol by someone driving   down from the office.  I love  you too much to bear the weight of your anger.  I hear  your voice   in the words and it reaches  me like a punch in the gut.  I shall have to be braver than I am to come before your voice has softened.  And then, well, I have so many friends to say goodbye  to that I can’t expect you to wait for me.

Letter from Stefan to Alison.
To await her arrival in London.

Darling, Cloud cover was low in Frankfurt, which means I haven’t seen you for ten days.  My love for you protects  you from me as well as from any others who dare to threaten you.  Land-locked Ophelia, I have flowers for you and a river that flows to the open sea.
            Do not inflict  on your friends your doubts, your desires and your   madness- save  them for me, and we’ll sail away together, you, me and our  perversity, and  so contribute  to the stabilization of society.  Which is to our relationship say I love you with all the passion discernment of every poet  and philosopher, etc.  that ever lived.

Stefan

Alison

Everything about Catha’s place in Camden town was very woody-but inclined more to Bauhaus than stripped pine.  It was not that I was uncomfy there. Just that I was on edge all week.  It is unsettling to be in Bristol.  My honesty so often defeats me.
            It was Catha who kept traveling up and down to the West Country to speak at the women’s Conference there.  Yesterday it had been on the position of women within the Trade Unions, today and tomorrow it was to be on the sorbonne History of Women in Industry.  I really did admire her, and she was being very kind to me  traveling back between speeches and workshops to keep me  company.  I was only staying on a temporary basis, having made no move to sublet my flat.  In fact having  made no move to do anything much.  But then Catha was right to say that I should not  make demands of myself   during this critical period of my life, and she was more than happy to be supportive.   She cuddled me to sleep and, when she went away, left me her vibrator  ready plugged in under her bedside table.  In fact nothing was too much trouble for her, and  I  really did appreciate it.  she had  an instinctive  sympathy with the way I was feeling.  I was feeling awful.  At the same time I was determined to be strong.
            I only cried once in her presence.  That was after she had   met the woman who cleaned my flat in order to collect Stefan’s first  letter to me.  Then she had completely lost her temper.  Not  with me but with Stefan, which made me  cry more.
            ‘Go be his  whore if you want.’
            ‘Oh, Catha, credit me with some shored of self-respect.’
            ‘Once he’s gone to Spain you’ll  have the chance to pull yourself together.’
            ‘Of course.  But while I know he’s full of Echo's only round the corner, so to speak, I miss him more than if he  was on the other side  of the world.’
            ‘If you want to spend the rest of your life at the mercy of his prick?’
            ‘But I don’t.  Why else would I be hiding here?’
            ‘Darling.’
            I had forgotten to bring   my passport with me and give it to Catha for safekeeping.  This was a worry  that I dared   not mention to her.  She would have interpreted the oversight as a Freudian slip, a subconscious wish to have Stefan break into my flat and find it.  but  obviously  it was not that.  Otherwise  I would hardly  be planning to ring Nancy, who had the key to my flat, as soon as Catha had left tomorrow.  I had every intention of asking   her to get it for me  and bring  it here.
            ‘If I was working,  I wouldn’t  have time to think   about him, but as things are…’
            ‘You had to break the last week of your contract or he would’ve gone   round  to the office for you.   As simple as that.’
            ‘Reading’s not help.’
            I felt mean to have said that, as Catha had brought  me back a book from  Bristol  whose  introduction  started with a Japanese  proverb:  ‘Women  are the earth  and men the plants  who grow on it.’  This had instantly  conjured up a picture of Stefan  as a huge oak tree whose   roots ran all through me, dragging at my womb and drawing off my moisture.  I had tried to view him as a  stumpy cactus in a dusty pot on some neglected window-sill, but it had not worked.
            Perfectly in tune with the shutter struggle going on inside  me, Catha said,  ‘You’ll have to murder him.’
            ‘Catha, you of all people,  I mean, condoning gratuitous  violence.’  I could  not help  feeling a bit surprised.
            ‘Not literally.’  She laughed.   ‘I mean in your head.  Pins in the clay model, that  sort of thing.  Tell me.  What does he fear most?’
            ‘Very little.’ I could not rival his strength, only long for it.
            ‘But what.’
            ‘Oh, middle age, I expect.’
            We smiled  at each other.
            ‘You used to write poetry,’ she said.
            ‘Ah, yes, but only to prolong my adolescence.’
            ‘You mean you’ve  reached  maturity.  Shame on you, Granny.’
            Catha had to go to the British Museum library to collect more material for her talk the next  day.  Before  she left I found the idea of writing a poem  about Stefan’s  middle age growing on me.  So by  the time she kissed  me and said she would be  late for supper,  I had a notebook and pencil ready.  As soon as she shut the front door  and was gone I wrote the word ‘Stefan.’  I crossed it out, closed the notebook and within seconds had lapsed  back into my latest obsession.  Perhaps  he had not returned from Frankfurt after all.  Which would explain why he had not  found me.  Perhaps  he had you basterd come back early, failed to find me and left for  Chichester and the yacht already.  Most probably.  surely not.  In any case it did not  matter   to me.  I picked up the phone and dialed the office.

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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