Earth Tones: Two Erotic Sci-Fi Stories

By Susan Hart

Good Eats at the Diner, is about a waitress working in an all-night diner near Roswell, New Mexico. She's used to the locals and an assortment of drifters who frequent the place, but definitely not used to the charismatic stranger who stops in one night for a bite to eat. This is an erotic riff on the classic sci-fi movies and series of the fifties, with a wry and humorous touch. The Last Sunset on Earth, is an erotic story about a future world--one that’s all gray; gray buildings, gray thoughts, gray people. It rains all the time and the government has forbidden color because they think it gets people too excited. Some cut themselves just so they can see red blood. It’s forbidden to grow flowers because they serve no purpose, but one woman and then one man, together, grow a perfect sunflower and find each other in a most intimate way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan Hart
• Release date: Jan 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463526224

Susan Hart

I was born in England, but have lived in Southern California for many years. I m now retired and live in the Pacific NW in a little seaside city amongst the giant redwoods and wonderful harbor, almost at the Oregon border. My husband and I have one cat, called Midnight and she is featured in two of my latest Sci-Fi short stories. I love Science Fiction, animals, and trying to help others. I publish under Doreen Milstead as well as my own name. My photo was taken right before the coronation of QE II in the UK.

Book preview

Earth Tones: Two Erotic Sci-Fi Stories

By

Susan Hart

Copyright 2020 Susan Hart

Table of Contents

Good Eats at the Diner

The Last Sunset on Earth

Note: All characters are over 18.

Good Eats at the Diner

Synopsis: Good Eats at the Diner, is about a waitress working in an all-night diner near Roswell, New Mexico. She's used to the locals and an assortment of drifters who frequent the place, but definitely not used to the charismatic stranger who stops in one night for a bite to eat. This is an erotic riff on the classic sci-fi movies and series of the fifties, with a wry and humorous touch.

One of these days, I just knew I’d meet a few aliens.

Some humans thought that we were alone in the vast universe.

Some didn’t.

I also worked in Roswell New Mexico, we had little statues, and masks and mummified replicas of aliens all over the gift shop. I hadn’t had any close encounters of any kind yet, but in the near future, I hoped to meet a few little green, or grey, men.

I was a vegan, just out of high school, and took the graveyard shift because no one else wanted it. I have to admit that it was hard working around all of those greasy burgers and milk shakes all the time but so far, I’d managed to resist their allure.

I planned to keep my thin, girlish figure until I was, oh—maybe thirty or so; in other words, old.

I knew the hazards of working at a diner, in the middle of nowhere practically, and smack in the middle of prime country for aliens.

Forget about No Country for Old Men. I lived and worked at a place that could have had a flashing, neon, and beat-up old sign outside saying Come on In—We Don’t Bite.

Maybe the aliens would.

Those on The Twilight Zone were cool. Some of the movies and TV shows after that were obviously written by alien haters. You know—the ones where people ran around with atomic bombs and shotguns and blasted every alien in sight.

Fuck, I wanted to meet an alien one day, not blow him or her or it or them up.

Maybe I’d jump his bones, if it was a he and our equipment matched up.

If he had any, that is.

Maybe alien sex wasn’t at all like human sex. What if they didn’t make love and instead made babies in test tubes or something?

I guess we can