Choosing Her Lover

*****

‘An Illusion of Happiness’

A Tale of BDSM Erotic Romance

And the Meeting of Strangers

Part Two

An Illusion of Happiness

As I stroll across the sands, a familiar figure jogs towards me, a small dog trotting alongside; a terrier that looks as though it has been assembled from a junkyard of other dogs.

As the runner approaches, he angles my way. Drawing close, he pulls to a stop, huffing.

“Hi, Kirstie,” he says, “I was hoping I’d run into you. How are you?”

His face is severe. Ben is not an unhandsome man, but his natural expression is unsmiling, which detracts from his looks, making him appear austere, perhaps even puritanical.

And is that just an appearance….? Or is that really the man?

“Hi, Ben. I’m good. You?”

“Yeah, I’m great. Mind if we join you for a bit?”

“We?”

He nods down toward his dog. “Scruffy wants to make friends….”

True enough, Scruffy is making moves on my Meg, who rumbling low, curls up a lip, unimpressed by this rag-tag terrier.

“…. and he’s not the only one.”

“I’d love you and Scruffy to join us. I was about to have some coffee actually.” I hold up my flask. “Want a cup?”

“Great idea.”

Sitting on the dune, close to each other, we sip coffee. The wind blowing into our faces sends my hair streaming over my shoulders. It feels very comfortable, very natural.

Then he turns to

swaying in towards him. He leans to me, finishing the movement, tilting his head to the side as his lips

He tastes of sunshine and fresh air, strawberries, and vanilla. His hand cupping my

mouth opens over mine, and he pulls me in tightly to him, holding

again, then away out to sea. “I wanted to do that the other night, but I thought maybe I’d be moving too

a long time since anyone kissed me in that way. He doesn’t just want a quick

down….” Emma drops the semi-rotted fish

don’t want the car to smell of that on the

roll too, competing for the stinking thing, then Scruffy joins in the

up. “Scruffy.

and persuaded the dogs to play in the water long enough to get rid of

suggest, waving vaguely towards the bar further along the beach. “My

good,” he replies, with the kind of smile that suggests that ice cream is just an excuse for hanging

he smiles, his face transforms. He becomes an

bar, I juggle change in my pocket. “What

not sure. What

bitter chocolate and sour cherry that’s to die

me.” He sniffs. “I’ll have the

Of course you will….

good man, but I think you’ll always choose

You want something you’re never going to get from

But…. You’re nice….

‘nice’ what I

the beach again, eating cornets, licking away

a living, I mean? If

I know it’s one of those dream jobs for

“Something different?”

concierge in one of the office blocks in the new

certainly a

know, the one that went up so quickly after the old

“My sister-in-law works there.

so I’ll be seeing people all

the sis said something about that too. She’s going through

I’ll get