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

finishing the movement, tilting

air, strawberries, and vanilla. His hand cupping my cheek, his touch is soft,

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

breaks away, he looks at me again, then away out to sea. “I wanted to do that the other

kissed me in that way. He doesn’t just want

fish she

want the car to smell of that on the way home.

Meg start to roll too, competing for the stinking thing, then Scruffy joins in the melee, and

leaps up. “Scruffy.

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 you a

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

face transforms.

bar, I juggle change in my pocket. “What

not sure. What have

chocolate and sour cherry that’s to die

me.” He sniffs.

Of course you will….

man, but I

want something you’re never going to get

But…. You’re nice….

Is ‘nice’

the beach again, eating cornets, licking away the dripping

asks. “For a

don’t mind at all. I was a pastry chef. I know it’s one of those dream jobs for a lot of people, but I hated it. I’m starting a new

“Something different?”

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

a

one that went up so quickly after the old

“My sister-in-law works there. What made you pick

so I’ll be seeing people all the time. And the company has a good reputation

something about that too. She’s going through their

maybe I’ll get