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

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

and affectionate. He tastes of sunshine and fresh air, strawberries, and vanilla. His hand cupping my cheek, his touch is soft, his mouth

eyes, then he leans into me once more, but this time, his mouth opens over mine, and he pulls me in tightly to him,

to sea. “I wanted to do that the other

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

that down….” Emma drops the semi-rotted fish she is holding, letting

the car to smell of that

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

leaps up. “Scruffy.

it as far out into the waves as Ben’s long-armed throw can manage, and persuaded the dogs to play in the water long enough to get rid of the worst of the smell,

an ice cream?” I suggest, waving vaguely towards the bar further along the beach. “My treat. I owe

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

smiles, his face

I juggle change in my pocket.

sure. What have

chocolate and

me.” He sniffs. “I’ll

Of course you will….

a good man, but I

being fair to you. You want something you’re never going to get

But…. You’re nice….

‘nice’ what I

again, eating cornets, licking away the

do?” he asks. “For a

mind at all. I was a pastry chef. I know it’s one of those dream jobs for a lot of

“Something different?”

I’m being taken on as a concierge in one of the office blocks in the new

a change.

that went up so quickly

place,” he comments. “My sister-in-law works there.

on their front desk, so I’ll be seeing people all the time. And the company has a good reputation for training, and

said something about that too.

maybe I’ll