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

me, finishing the movement, tilting his head to the

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

but this time, his mouth opens over mine, and he pulls me in

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

time since anyone kissed me

the semi-rotted fish she is holding, letting it fall to the sand. Archie immediately seizes

want the car to smell of that on the way

for the stinking thing, then Scruffy joins in the melee, and

leaps up.

into the waves as Ben’s long-armed throw can manage, and persuaded the dogs to play in the water long enough

suggest, waving vaguely towards the bar further along the beach. “My treat. I owe you a coffee

of smile that suggests that ice cream is just an excuse

as he smiles, his face transforms. He

bar, I juggle change in my pocket. “What are

What

do a bitter chocolate and sour

for me.” He sniffs. “I’ll have

Of course you will….

but I

I’m not being fair to you. You want something you’re never going to get from

But…. You’re nice….

‘nice’

wander along the beach again, eating

what is it you do?” he asks. “For a living,

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

“Something different?”

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

certainly a change.

that went up so quickly after the old headquarters

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

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

about

Well, maybe I’ll