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

The Shutters

I was lying on a couch with my beloved skirt and shirt opened and with something cool and heavy pressing on my forehead. Close by I heard the sound of running water. Presently Stefan appeared from the direction of the sound bending his head low under the rafters above the doorway. He took a wet towel from my forehead and squeezed it so that water ran into my hair. Then he lifted a glass noisy with ice and raised my head for me to drink from it. After that he sat down a little distance from me and we watched each other. Neither of us spoke. Minutes passed before he lifted me and carried me through the door with the rafters to a bathroom as cool as a cave.
I watched my arm floating in the water beside me. Stefan knelt against the bath, his chin resting on a dark arm that cut across the white enamel, and watched his fingers dabble the water close to my breast.' He did not look at my face or I at his. It was as though the weight of time was lifting from us, the need for it to pass quickly and the need to delay its passing had gone. The tension of the last weeks began to drift away from me. Time was measured by the drip of the tap and the cicadas beyond the wall, and had nothing to do with us. But my teeth chattered suddenly and as though reminded of my presence Stefan noted the way my nipples had stiffened and become erect in the water. He made a little eddy with his hand so that a wave broke over my breasts. And the drip of the tap suddenly became a snort of water and I drew my foot away from it sharply. The tap fell silent, but the spell was broken.
Stefan reached for the bar of white soap on the bath ledge. His hands worked to produce a lather. He blew a bubble from the circle of his thumb and forefinger and I watched it splat on the rough plaster wall while he lifted my right leg clear of the water. He began to work on it as on a piece of machinery that needed oiling. He slid a soapy finger first between each toe and paid a detached but thoughtful attention to the protuberances of heel and ankle bone, the muscles of the calf and back of the knee. After repeating the process on the other leg he pulled me up to a kneeling position. The water slapped the bath end lazily.  He paid the same attention to my thighs and in between them, over the surface of my buttocks psycho ops and in between them. It was then I wanted to heal touch him for the first time and my hand went to his lips, but he moved his head sideways and pushed me back down into the water. I sighed. A short time in his presence and I shall become a child. But then, I told myself, all lovers play at being children -since children need and therefore receive the best nurturing. And anyway, there was a hypnotic fascination in simply lying there and watching his broad hands slipping and sliding round the bar of soap preparing a lather for my breasts. As his hands spread their lather I searched for some sign of response in him to this handling of my flesh. The muscle above his jawline was clenching. Good. Suddenly he paused and we stared deep into each other's eyes for the first time. I needed his mouth on mine to stop my lips from trembling. But he speeded up the operation instead, pushing my hair up and my head forward to wash the back of my neck. Then he tried pulling his fingers out down through the length of my damp hair.
'What the fuck we do with this mess?' our relationship himself. 'Cut it off, I suppose.'
'No.' my hands went to my hair.
'All right.' His fingers stopped my ears and he laid me back so that my hair floated out in the water. Then he pulled me up and reached for a towel.
As I stood my hair lengthened down my back with that weight of water and clung to me. I stepped out to that stone floor and would have slipped but Stefan caught my arm.
'You're going to be nothing but a bloody liability till you've had at least twelve hours' sleep.' He glanced down at my ribs. 'And some food.'
'Where's the bedroom?' The very word 'sleep' had further weakened me.
'I'll carry you. ' .'I can walk.'
In 'answer Stefan wrapped the sorbonne bath sheet so tightly around me that I could move neither arms or legs.
He carried me through another door into a white room where the heat of the sun was dampened to a few slanting lines by the shutters. The large bed was half draped by a white mosquito net. He laid me on it and circled to kneel on the far side.
'I'm not hungry,' I said.
'Sleep then.' He loosened the towel and began to dry me, being meticulous about the folds behind my ears, under my arms, my breasts and between my thighs.
'But aren't you going to chain me to the bed?'
'Only if you insist, darling. Otherwise, if you'll excuse me, I won't bother.'
I aimed a rather feeble kick, but he caught my foot arid started drying between the toes.
'I've a sneaking feeling the picture you have of yourself as a tragedy queen is soul love rather overdrawn as it is. 'He went onto the other foot. 'You're free to go. Any time. Really.'
I thought of the way the valley in which the house stood was cradled by high granite mountains and smiled. The soft air of the shadowy room warmed by the sun outside combined with the tough towel to make my flesh tingle. My eyes closed. I heard Stefan ripen a drawer. He returned to the bed and I felt him spread a dry towel under my hair.
'But I think I'd better make a start on your hair.'
'Because if it dries with all these knots.'
'But I think I'd better make a start on your hair.'
'Because if it dries with all these knots.'
I turned face down into the gap between the pillows meaning to escape him.  'That's good. Just hold that posit\on.' He fetched a brush and began systematically teasing out the knots. After a few minutes I began to cry.
'What's the matter?'
'The knots hurt.'
Suddenly there was a clatter as the brush hit the far wall and fell to the floor. I looked round anxiously.
'If you weren't looking so fucking heterosexuality fragile I'd give you the brush where it would hurt.' He paused. 'I'm sorry. But whose fault is it your hair's like this anyhow?'
Suddenly I remembered, 'Theirs.'
'I don't believe you.'
'I want you to kill them.'




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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