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From: "Malinov" <malinov@mindless.com>
Subject: {ASS} The Old Book by Lord Malinov
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The Old Book
by Lord Malinov
<malinov@mindless.com>
~~~
The Old Book
The title had come up in conversation. It popped into my head as I spoke.
There was real delight in finding the entire course of the novel still fresh
in my thoughts, each character and scene emerging from the mists of memory
like an old friend. I resolved at once to try and find a copy of this book
I had left behind so long ago. But the novel I sought was out of print and
generally inaccessible. It was not the kind of writing which would
generally find its final resting place in the noble crypt of a library. I
had no choice but to begin digging in the graveyards of forgotten books –
used bookstores.
I was driving through the other side of town when I spied one of those
venerable shops. I parked my car and entered the old store. I didn’t ask
the proprietor for help, reluctant to make too straight a line toward
disappointment. The regularity of continually failing to discover the
object of my quest led me to pretend I might be shopping for any good book
which caught my eye. I began wandering the maze of shelves, looking high
and low for some book which might be interesting, perhaps even the one that
I sought..
There were picture books and treatises, texts and tomes, gnarled
once-best-selling paperbacks and majestic timeless volumes bound in fine
Moroccan leather. I moved along the lines of non-fiction to fiction, past
poetry, through literature. I turned the corner of mysteries and at once
caught a glimpse of the book I had been searching for. An attractive woman
held it open in her hands, reading the yellowed pages with a smile.
Ordinarily, I would have been too shy to say anything to the woman more
communicative than a nod, but I had been searching for that book for so many
months that my courage was roused. I couldn’t let her take my grail right
out from under my nose without making some effort to keep it.
“Excuse me, Miss,” I said. She looked up, started slightly and then cocked
her head to one side. Her fine hair flowed like liquid over her shoulders.
“Harry?” the woman asked. “Aren’t you Harry Anderson?”
Surprised, I nodded my acknowledgement and then suddenly caught a vision
behind the veil of changes.
“Melanie?” I said in a sudden state of shock.
“How are you, Harry?” she asked tenderly. The years had been good to
Melanie. If anything, she looked better than she had before, maturity
agreeing with her as it filled out her somewhat bony figure with more
feminine curves. The forever buoyant energy of her youth seemed to have
given way to a cool and playful steadiness.
I struggled to tell her briefly all the highlights of the decade that had
passed since the last time we parted, quickly giving her a fair rundown of
where I stood at that time. I politely asked about her.
“I was married for a time, but not anymore,” she began coyly. Melanie told
me about her job, and her trips to Europe and South America and her brother
and her parents. Her words amazed me. I had known her so well at one time
in my life, and it seemed so strange that I could simply forget it all.
“So, you looking for anything in particular?” I asked.
“Me? No, I was just browsing, hoping something would catch my eye.” Her
long floral skirt swung loosely as she gestured down the long shelves of
paperback novels around us.
I quickly confessed to her my earnest quest for the sacred book she still
held in her hand. Melanie laughed, a joyous explosion of mirth, so familiar
in my distant memory, so terribly lost in the rushes of time. With every
passing moment, I wished even more that I hadn’t forgotten her.
“Are you virtuous enough to receive this holy object?” Melanie asked.
“Probably not,” I admitted with a grin.
“Well then, good sir knight, I’m afraid you must undergo the test. As the
Lady of the Stacks, it is my solemn duty to protect the holy books from the
corrupt hands of evildoers.” Her smile betrayed her immense pleasure in
formulating her little game. Melanie’s tone grew softer as she asked, “Are
you very busy? Can you come over to my place for a drink? I just live a
few blocks from here.”
I agreed to her proposal. Melanie bought the book I had been searching for
and we walked together to her home.
Melanie brewed some tea and then opened some wine and for hours we indulged
ourselves in remembering old times. As she reminded me of the day her
brothers and I had been caught spying on her and her friends, of the ruse
she had concocted to spare us from punishment, my heart filled with longing
for this woman. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed her company. Her pretty
smile brightened all my thoughts.
“You know, I don’t remember why we split up,” I said, hoping that this line
of inquiry wouldn’t open some old wound and imperil my chances of receiving
my bounty.
“That’s because we didn’t,” Melanie said solemnly, pushing a long strand of
fine hair behind her ear. “When the summer ended, you took a new job and I
moved in with Sally and we just drifted apart. Besides, Harry, I don’t
think we were really going together, so there wasn’t anything to break up.”
“But we had so much fun together.”
“Yes, we did.”
“And we just let that slip away?”
“It was my fault. You were so shy back then,” she said. “I stopped pushing
you to come out and play and our lives just drifted apart."
“But,” I said. I couldn’t think of anything to say and so I leaned over and
kissed her. Melanie fell into my arms. It felt so familiar, the taste of
her breath, the press of her lips, the feel of her there, held against me.
Passion for this fond memory come alive suddenly enflamed me and I willingly
surrendered to all my desires. My hands caressed her back as we kissed,
pushing the cloth out of the way to feel the warmth of her soft flesh.
We made love in a tangle on the couch in her front room. Ten years had
slipped by us, but her body still seemed perfectly familiar to me. I
suckled her breasts as I had long ago. I kneaded her legs and kissed her
soft toes. The sound of her moans as she reached for her climax sang like
an old lullaby, so soothing in its excited familiarity that I quickly came
myself. We fell in a heap on the floor, laughing and sighing.
“Oh, Harry, I’ve missed you,” she said tenderly.
“More than I knew,” I replied with a kiss.
When so many hours had passed that we couldn’t avoid parting any longer,
Melanie handed me my book.
“You’ve proved your virtue, good sir knight.” I took my prize and drove
home in a daze, happy to have found Melanie, hoping my new found delight
would never come to an end.
I laid down in my bed, my heart pounding. I swam in the intoxicating swirl
of reminiscences of our past and dreams of our future. Finally, I picked up
the book I had searched for so long. I opened it, leaned back against my
head board and started to read.
The old book was better than I remembered, better still by far.
~~~
The Old Book
by Lord Malinov
<malinov@mindless.com>
Power belongs to those who dare . . . Sapere Aude
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