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.

to sea, not speaking. Then he turns to me. “Can

to me, finishing the movement, tilting his head to the side as his

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

mouth opens over mine, and he pulls

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

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

away. “Emma! Will you put that down….” Emma drops the semi-rotted fish she is holding, letting it

leap up. God knows I don’t want the car to

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

leaps up.

tossing 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

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

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

he smiles, his face transforms.

I juggle change in my

What have they

and sour cherry that’s to die

me.”

Of course you will….

I think you’ll always choose

to you. You want something

But…. You’re nice….

‘nice’

beach again, eating cornets, licking away the

“For a living, I mean? If you

don’t mind at all. I was a pastry chef. I know it’s one of those dream jobs for

“Something different?”

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

a change. Which

new Haswell Building. You know, the one that went up

works there. What made

front desk, so I’ll be seeing people all the time. And the

his eyebrows. “Yeah, the sis said something about

maybe I’ll get