"A truly great library contains something in it to offend everyone." - Jo Godwin
I have always had a love of books. Old Books, besides their wonderful texture and smell, take you on journeys, lay bare the inner thoughts of great minds, entertain you with wit and satire, reveal to you the exploits of famous explorers, chronicle the rise and fall of great men and nations, and excite you with passion.
So, when I retired after a long engineering career, I decided to open a small used bookstore. I spoke to a number of people in the business, and decided that I could make enough money reselling text books to the local college students to support the nitch market for rare books. I let it be known that I was interested in starting up a books store, and waited. I wasn't getting any younger, what with a touch of gray and a slight middle "roll." But, I reminded myself, I can still see my shoes and bend over to tie them, too.
After a while, I was fortunate to buy an existing bookstore from an older gentleman who was getting too old to manage it any longer. It was located on the upper floor of a old building in a quaint shopping district just blocks from the local college, which suited me perfectly. There was a glass door at the street level, between two shops. A flight of stairs led up to a second door, which opened up to a small alcove with a chair, small table and lamp, and a counter with a old brass cash register - cha-Ching! The floors were well-worn wood. I decided to leave them bare, as they lent an aged character to the store - just the atmosphere I thought belonged in a used bookstore.
After all the legal paperwork was completed, and the store was mine, I took the better part of the summer to inventory the books. The previous owner had been methodical and careful in keeping good records on a card file. The books were neatly shelved, with no piles on the floor like some places I've been in. The thought crossed my mind to transfer the inventory to a computer, slip electronic tags in each book, and automate the sales. But, I decided to wait until I had spent a year in the store, using the existing card file to keep track of the inventory and sales. I also decided that I would operate on a cash-only basis to avoid the expense of having to pay a fee to credit card companies.
I added lighting to some of the darker corners of the store, as there were not any windows. I decided against installing security cameras - the previous owner had not experienced any significant loss from "light fingers," so I didn't see the need. I had a local graphic artist put my name on the door, and also put an "under new management" ad in the yellow pages. Then I sat back and surveyed my small domain - nice and cosy. I hoped for the best.
Business began slowly, as customers who knew the old owner stopped in and were surprised to learn of his retirement. They were pleased to find I was running the store in pretty much the same way, but with the addition of books for the local students. I made it a point to give talks to local clubs, and offered discounts to students and seniors. Although business had its ups and downs, gradually it began to pick up enough where I was making a modest profit - which is all I had expected.
I began to learn what my customers wanted, and little by little modified the inventory. I sold or exchanged books that weren't selling with other dealers, and picked up some to pique the interests of customers. A few rare "adult" books were placed in a display case - both to protect them and retain their resale value, and to avoid them "disappearing" from the store.
So, it was just one of these books that injected a bit of excitement into the quiet, and sometimes, boring life of the bookstore.
It was on a quiet weekend that she first showed up. The store was empty, and I was reviewing my inventory when I heard the bell tinkle as the door opened. She paused and looked around, as if taking stock of the store before closing the door behind her. The blinds rattled against the glass, then settled down.
"Hello," I offered in a friendly greeting, looking at her.
"Hi," she replied in return, and walked into the store.
"Just ask if you need help finding something!" I said, and returned the inventory. I needed to fill an order for a literature professor at the college.
As she walked back and forth from section to section, I caught a glimpse of her from time to time. She wasn't dressed in anything that would call attention to herself - just ordinary jeans, a long-sleeved blouse, and sneakers.
After a while, she came up to the counter and asked about some authors and books that she was searching for. After checking my inventory cards, I remarked that I didn't appear to have what she was looking for, but I suggested that she fill out a form with her name, phone number, and email address with what she was looking for, I would let her know if I came across it in my dealings with other stores. She filled out the form and passed it back to me, then took one of my business cards propped up on the counter. She said she'd give me a call on a couple of other items she was looking for once she got back to her apartment.
As she turned to leave, she took one last look in the glass case under the counter where I kept the adult erotica. She gave a gasp, as if not sure she saw what I had displayed - on a little stand to keep it upright, but in a snug Ziplock bag, was a 1974 paperback copy of IMAGINATIVE SEX by John Norman.
"How much is that John Norman book?" she said casually.
I glanced at her. "Oh, this one?" I reached down and slid open a panel behind the counter and took it out, bag and all, and placed it on the wooden counter. The tag on the bag was marked with the price - $150. There was, after all, a market for this book - a nitch market to be sure, but a market nevertheless. It was a fairly rare book, in that it didn't sell very well when it was first introduced, but its demand grew after it was out of print.
"Have you read the GOR books?" I said. I figured she'd have to know about the other books by the author as well.
She said something about her brother having the Gor books when she was a kid, and had skimmed through a few. She said a friend had the Imaginative Sex book in college, and they'd read through it and laughed at some of the scenarios. "I thought I'd want a copy," she said, then added "just as a lark."
I smiled and looked her in the eye. "I see." She appeared nervous, but I could tell she was interested in the book.
