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.

sea, not speaking. Then

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

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

back for a moment, holding my eyes, then he leans into me once more, but this time, his mouth opens over

to sea. “I wanted to do that the other night, but I thought maybe I’d be

to say to him. It’s a long time since anyone kissed me in that way.

to break away. “Emma! Will you put that down….” Emma drops the semi-rotted fish she is holding, letting it fall to the sand. Archie immediately seizes the initiative and starts

to smell of that on the way

for the stinking

leaps up.

tossing it as far out into the waves as Ben’s long-armed throw can manage, and persuaded the dogs

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

that suggests that ice cream is just

as he smiles, his face

the bar, I juggle change in my pocket.

What have they

and sour cherry that’s to die

me.” He sniffs.

Of course you will….

but I think you’ll always choose

You want something you’re never going

But…. You’re nice….

Is ‘nice’

beach again, eating cornets, licking away the dripping

you do?” he asks. “For a living,

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 job in a couple of

“Something different?”

as a concierge in one of the

a change. Which

Haswell Building. You know, the one that went

works there.

desk, so I’ll be seeing people all

something about that too. She’s going

maybe I’ll get