You could almost put them in the same dormitory if you thought about it -- Erica de Jong and Sue Kaufman and Ann Roiphe and now Lois Gould with her both gentlest and funniest book and -- as they let their hair down and raise their consciousness -- they have a good deal in common writing about fashionable young women of talent and worldly experience they don't know quite how to apply. And all of them manage to make it seem as intimate and indispensable as their last pair of pantyhose. ""Single, female, articulate, attractive"" I, the of course question mark I, who tells this story spends two years, 270 hours, and close to $10,000 discussing her problems with Dr. S. (a very protective, insulating initial) Conrad Foxx -- her problems mainly being her preference for her own grossly masochistic sexual fantasies to the real thing -- in fact she'd let her diaphragm ""expire with her driver's license."" Two years later of Fixation -- ""Foxxation"" she's seeing him on the outside even though he seems more concerned with his tennis and other girls -- both ""ready for every one of his strokes."" Actually there's something very wrong with Dr. Foxx (a mother seven years of analysis couldn't exorcise) until. . . . The scenery is just right whether it's media enterprise or a diet dinner or her Lib group; the sophistication is still there with much less of the bitch-chic of her earlier books; and all in all Lois Gould has fashioned what should be the perfect entertainment for every Miss, Ms. or Mrs.