Book description (from the back cover):
Acclaimed author Mitzi Szereto explores the many complexities of desire, love and lust in this rich and varied “best of” collection of erotically charged short stories.
In these 17 provocative and often witty offerings, Mitzi Szereto travels expertly between genres with tales that explore both the light and the dark sides of sexuality. Oysters and Pearls gives the reader a glimpse into worlds that are as ordinary as they are fantastical and mysterious. Like a skilled lover, this sensuous and imaginative compilation will leave you wanting more.
“Whether it’s gothic, paranormal, fantasy, sci-fi, romance or flat-out comedy, Mitzi Szereto does it with panache. Stories that titillate and entertain, provoke wild thoughts or sensual dreams, they’re all here in Oysters and Pearls. Enjoy!”—Kate Douglas, bestselling author of Spirit Wild and Intimate Relations
“Mitzi Szereto has a quirky and intriguing hold on suburbia, desperation, the loneliness of the human heart and the essential sadness of its yearning, as we seek to express it through sexual contact. It’s a dark and poignant place, of course, but laughter is never entirely absent. Which is just as it should be.”—Niall Griffiths, author of Wreckage and Sheepshagger
“The strength of this collection lies in its imaginative grasp of the wide variety of cultures, landscapes and emotional engagement of the reader as well the sexual.”—Tobsha Learner, bestselling author of Picture This
Oysters and Pearls: Collected Stories by Mitzi Szereto
(from the short story “Bakewell, Revisited”)
With the approach of lunchtime, the pub gets busier. I glance up from the muddy depths of my stout and notice a woman standing at the bar while the publican pulls a pint for another customer. Her fingers drum the aged wood—the only indication that she might be impatient for the man to get on with it and serve her. She’s dressed in typical country fare: brown corduroy jeans, beige Fair Isle sweater, earth-caked hiking boots. Probably one of those hale and hearty types on a walking excursion, although I see no evidence of the requisite rucksack and walking sticks. She shrugs her heavy brown coat from her shoulders and whips off her plaid scarf, which—surprise, surprise—has brown woven into it.
Wild waves of chestnut hair. Creamy skin. A rosy blush on the cheek turned toward me. I stop breathing.
It can’t be. It can’t.
But it is.
Drink in hand, she turns around, apparently searching for a suitable place to drop her over-garments and partake of her half pint of what looks to be cider. A ray of sun from the window by my head catches on the contents of her glass, turning it to liquid gold. She spies me at my lone table and her eyes widen. “Um, aren’t you—”
Without waiting for an invite, she settles into the chair adjacent to mine. The chair with the wooden seat made shiny by generations of pub-crawling bottoms is now being made shiny by hers. The thought causes a fluttering that begins in my abdomen and spreads lower and lower until I have to cross my legs within the confined space to quash it.
“You all right? It’s been so long…” Mundane words, but nevertheless exciting. Her accent still has the north in it—that curious Derbyshire-Yorkshire crosshatching with the dropped thes, and the sommats in place of the somethings. But then, she probably never left here.
I nod. I don’t need to be reminded of how long it has been. The evidence shows in my face. My eyes. Not hers though. She’s still beautiful. Still young. Even after two decades I can taste my desire for her. It’s as strong as it was when we picnicked among the dead of Bakewell. I watch her lips move as she offers me small talk. I feel a dampening as they form the vowels and consonants that make up speech. A trickling in my armpits and groin, followed by a stirring. A pulsing. A staccato beating. “Do you still live here in Derbyshire?” I manage to ask.
“Never left,” she says with a smack of her lips, which have the delicate tincture of Belgian strawberries. “Why leave heaven?”
Heaven. Yes, it might be to some. It never was to me though. Not as long as my desire for her remained frozen on my fingers and tongue. Frozen in my genitals.
About the author:
Mitzi Szereto (mitziszereto.com) is an author and anthology editor of multi-genre fiction and non-fiction. She has her own blog of humorous essays at Errant Ramblings: Mitzi Szereto’s Weblog (mitziszereto.com/blog), and a web TV channel Mitzi TV (mitziszereto.com/tv), which covers the “quirky” side of London, England. Her books include Phantom: The Immortal (co-authored with Ashley Lister); Rotten Peaches (The Thelonious T. Bear Chronicles) and Normal for Norfolk (The Thelonious T. Bear Chronicles)—the cozy mystery/satire series co-authored with celebrity author bear Teddy Tedaloo; The Wilde Passions of Dorian Gray; Pride and Prejudice: Hidden Lusts; Love, Lust and Zombies; Thrones of Desire: Erotic Tales of Swords, Mist and Fire and Getting Even: Revenge Stories. Her anthology Erotic Travel Tales 2 is the first anthology of erotica to feature a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature. She divides her time between the Pacific Northwest and the UK.
Publication date: Nov. 15, 2016
Available in trade paperback and e-book
Published by Midnight Rain Publishing
Genres: Literary Erotica, Paranormal Romance, Erotic Horror, Humor & Satire, Sci-fi/Fantasy
Length: 213 pages (print version)
Trade paperback: $12.95; digital edition: $6.95
Amazon USA: https://www.amazon.com/
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/
Amazon Canada: https://www.amazon.ca/
Amazon Australia: https://www.amazon.