Room 2D

By James Kenway from Janus 28 Gazing down from behind the glass I could see the girl crossing the patio below, hips swinging above the tapping high heels, the blonde mop topping the lot. It would take her a couple of minutes to come up in the lift, sway along the corridor and let herself in. I sat behind my desk, chair angled so that I faced the door. I wanted her to see me as soon as she entered. I had a few very serious words to say to this young lady and I wanted the psychological advantage of catching her by surprise. I glanced around my cluttered and untidy office with distaste. The place was scattered with overflowing ashtrays and half-filled stale coffee cups. File drawers were half open and papers higgledy-piggledy everywhere. What on earth did the girl do all day? I heard the lift chunk to a stop and the tap of her heels in the corridor. Even without that giveaway sound I would have been sure it was her. Mine was the on...

Story by Julie Holmes from Janus 52 Time and time again she stands before me, sometimes her head bowed in mock contrition, at other times her eyes staring defiantly into my own. I hand out another detention or set of lines, desperately wishing I had the power to prescribe a more appropriate punishment, one that would break through that devil-may-care attitude and cause her to acquire some self-discipline and self-esteem… When I was a sixth-former, mini-skirts were  de rigeur , England swung because we were all backing Britain, and peace and love abounded (or tried to). It was a time of hope and plenty and I was a member of the generation that knew it was strong and talented and in control of its destiny. Our big sisters burned their bras — we never started to wear them. Suspenders surrendered to tights, unless knee-socks were being worn to tease and titillate. I knew that my youth gave me power and I exulted in striding the ...