The Compliant Customer

"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.

"Well, thanks for getting that out of that case." she said, with a little quaver to her voice. Yes, she was certainly nervous. Was it me, or was she getting excited about wanting the book?

"My pleasure." I continued to look at her, making no move to put the book away just yet.

After a moment, she spoke: "I'll see you next time!" she said, and took a step towards the door.

"Goodbye. It was nice to meet you, Janet." I said with a smile, remembering her name from the card she had filled out, and held out my hand. As she shook my hand, I noticed it was damp. Nervous or something else? I wondered what a nice young girl would do with that book - or for it.

After moment, she left, and I heard her tromping down the stairs - a little quicker than she had come up them.

I returned the book to under the counter, and turned to my inventory and wondered if I'd see her again.

As it turned out, I did see her again, briefly, about a week later. There were a couple of customers in the store, when I heard the tinkle of the bell above the door. As she stepped in, I offered a friendly "Hello, again."

As she paused in the alcove, I got a better look at her. She appeared to be in her late 20's or, maybe, early 30's. Nice and slim, although I couldn't make out too much of her figure from the casual outfit she was wearing. I noticed that she had straight brown hair down to her shoulder blades. And brown eyes. She had a pretty face - kinda cute over all.

She smiled, probably pleased that I remembered her from the previous week. I watched her as she looked at the glass bookcase. She seemed to be a bit embarrassed that I had caught her looking for that book, and feigned an interest in a book over in the History section. She seemed to muddle around for a while, but after a bit she headed for the door. "See you later!" she said.

"Bye now!" I said, making eye contact. I watched as she left the store. "That's twice she's shown interest in that book," I thought to myself. I decided to do something about it, should she show up again.

She did show up, once again, like clockwork on the very next Saturday. It was only about 15 minutes before closing and there were no customers, when she entered the store. I looked up and locked eyes with her and smiled knowingly, but didn't say anything. This time I could see she was dressed in a casual, but sexy, way. A white blouse, with the outline of a lacy white bra underneath, covered by a denim vest. A matching denim skirt, and the ubiquitous white socks and sneakers.

She closed the door, and made her way to the front of the store where I was standing, behind the counter. She asked if I knew when the new volume by some author was coming out? I rarely carried new books, but I told her that I could email her when I learned it was coming out. Finally I saw her glance in the case. The book was still there, but I had fastened a yellow tag above the price sticker. She leaned closer to read what it said. I waited.

"On hold?" she said, almost involuntarily, reading the tag.

I looked at her appraisingly. "Yes, someone is interested in that book, so I'm holding it for them."

"Oh, ok." She said in a small voice.

She seemed to be devastated. I looked at her for a moment, and then came to a decision. "I'm going to go out on a limb here," I said. "You've been in here the last three weeks. I think you really want this book. And I think the subject matter intrigues you. But you don't want to pay this price."

She stood there, silent, looking at me.

"I think maybe we can work something out."

"What what did you have in mind?" she stammered back in just slightly above a whisper.

"You're interested in a book about Dominance-Submission Role-play. I've got a role-play for you."

She looked at me expectantly.

"I'll be the older Dom who runs a bookstore. You're the young submissive who'll do anything to get this book." I kept my gaze steady on her. Would it work, I wondered?

"Ok." She said it quietly, but looked up at me, straight in the eyes.

"Ok, SIR." I ordered, sternly, playing the role.

She smiled a little bit, but then said, "Ok, Sir."

I was relieved, but tried not to show it. "I want you to go into the bathroom there around the corner. Remove your panties. Come back and set them on the counter."

She stared at me for a few seconds more, seemingly mulling over what I had just told her to do, and then wheeled and walked into the alcove. I let out a sigh of relief. I opened the newspaper I had been reading, and waited.

As soon as she stepped back into the room, I looked up at her. I didn't say anything, but waited to see what she would do. I watched as she stepped forward. Our eyes were on each other. Slowly, she walked across the wooden floor towards me. After a moment, where she seemed to be making certain that nobody else was in the store, I watched her set the panties down on the counter.

I smiled and glanced at them, but made no move to pick them up. I was enjoying this. That was the first test, and she passed it easily. Now, I moved on to the second one, a little harder for her.

"Lift your skirt up as high as it will go."

She said nothing but stared at me for a few moments, and then, with a smile, reached down with both hands and grasped both sides of the skirt and lifted. Now she was standing there in front of me in sneakers and socks, with her skirt pulled up, exposing bare legs and my pussy. I could see that although she wasn't shaved down there, it was nicely trimmed.

"Turn around," I said, and watched as her cute ass appeared. I smiled, enjoying the view.

I sat back, and said "Climb up on the counter."

She walked closer and, after a moment, took the purse off her shoulder and set it on the left on the counter. Then swiveling around, she scooted up on the counter with her back to me, rearranged her skirt a bit. Her bare ass was on the wooden counter. She swung her legs up and over, swiveling around until they were on my side.

I just sat back in the chair, gazing at her bare legs. I bet there'd be a wet spot on the counter before we were through. She was a daring minx. I was enjoying this.

I was about to lean forward and put my hands on her thighs when there was a bang downstairs as the door to the street opened, and faster than seemed possible there were feet pounding up the wooden stairs, as rapid-fire as machine gun bullets.

I don't think I ever saw someone move so fast. In hardly a blink of an eye, she jumped off the counter, straddling my lap, and danced nimbly away. In seconds she was around the counter again and back on the customer side.

At that moment, a young kid, well, college age, maybe 19, burst in. "Hi, are you still open? I wanted to get here before you closed!" the young guy panted, as if he'd run all the way here from campus.

I was taken back by the suddenness of his entry, and mumbled something to the effect of "Yes, we're still open."

I looked over to Janet, who seemed unsettled by the arrival just as we were getting warmed up to each other. "I, I've gotta go!" she blurted, quietly but with conviction. Snatching her purse off the counter she was out the door and down the steps without a glance back.

I looked down, and saw that she - no, I corrected myself - she had left her panties on the counter. I picked them up and put them in my pocket before the kid came back from the depths of the store with his purchase. They still felt warm.

Postscript

Compliant - adjective - inclined to agree with others or obey rules, especially to an excessive degree; acquiescent. Mac OS X Dictionary definition.