Eros Ascending: Book 1 of Tales of the Velvet Comet Read Online Free PDF

in its window.
    “Another chess table?” he asked, following her inside.
    “No. There's only one of those.”
    “Then what?”
    “Come along,” she said. “You'll see.”
    They went to the back of the shop, and suddenly Redwine found himself confronting a huge bookcase, filled from top to bottom with leather-bound volumes from Earth itself.
    He stepped forward and reached out gingerly. “May I?” he asked.
    The Leather Madonna nodded. “Of course.
    They're what I brought you here to see.”
    He pulled out a copy of Shakespeare's Sonnets and began turning the pages very carefully.
    “I got the impression from Suma that she'd never seen a book aboard the Comet," he remarked.
    “Suma has probably never made it past the dress shops,” said the Madonna. “But when she mentioned to me that you had brought some books along with you, I knew that I had to take you here.”
    “Do you collect books too?” he asked her, replacing the volume and withdrawing another.
    “Let's say that I prefer them.”
    “I'm not quite sure of the difference,” said Redwine.
    “I like the feel of a book in my hands,” explained the Madonna. “However, since books are very expensive and I can call up anything I need from the computer's library, I don't actually own very many. But I come here and borrow them quite frequently.”
    “I'm surprised the owner allows them out of his sight,” said Redwine.
    “The owner only gets up here once every two or three weeks.”
    “You know what I mean.”
    “He's a very nice man,” she said. “I arrange for him to use our facilities on occasion, and he lets me borrow books and keeps an eye out for certain antiques that I want. It's one of the perks that go with the job. With both our jobs, for that matter.”
    “Sounds like an equitable arrangement,” remarked Redwine. “Who's your favorite author?”
    “Tanblixt.”
    “I've never heard of him. Or is it a her?”
    “I doubt that even Tanblixt knows,” she said, amused.
    “An alien?"
    She nodded. “The poet laureate of Canphor VI.”
    “What does he/she/it write?”
    “The most passionate and lyrical poetry I've ever read.”
    “Sexless love poems?” he said dubiously.
    “Your provincialism is showing, Harry,” she said.
    “Perhaps I'll loan you a copy.”
    “I'd appreciate it. I don't suppose they have any here?” he said, indicating the rows of books.
    She shook her head. “These are all human authors.”
    He went back to examining the books, finally withdrew a copy of Dante's Inferno that contained replications of the Gustave Doré engravings, took it up to the front of the store, and had the computer withdraw the purchase price from his home account. He then laid it very gently on a wrapping machine, waited a few seconds for the mechanism to encase it in colorful plastic and affix a satin bow at one corner, and then joined the Leather Madonna, who was waiting at the door for him.
    “Pleased with your purchase?” she asked him.
    “Very. I've been after a copy for maybe six or seven years.”
    “How many books do you have, Harry?”
    “Oh, maybe five hundred,” he said. “But fine volumes in fine bindings? Very few. That store's a treasure chest.”
    “I guess I know where you're going to be spending your spare time,” said the Madonna.
    “Only as a browser. I think one of these every couple of weeks is about all my budget can stand.”
    “I find it odd that an accountant should be so interested in the classics.”
    “I find it equally odd that a madam should be so interested in love poems.”
    “There's a lot of difference between sex and love.”
    “I suppose there is at that,” he conceded.
    She began walking across the parquet floor toward the return slidewalk, skirting two men and three women who were standing and talking midway between the slidewalks, and he fell into step behind her, studying the curve of her hips and the firmness of her buttocks and concluding that she probably still had what it took