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.

sits, staring out to sea, not speaking. Then he turns to me.

in towards him. He leans to me, finishing the movement, tilting

tastes of sunshine and fresh air, strawberries, and vanilla. His hand

he leans into me once more, but this time, his mouth opens

out to sea. “I wanted to

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

put that down….” Emma drops the semi-rotted fish she is holding, letting it fall to the sand.

don’t want the car to smell of that on

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

leaps up.

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

cream?” I suggest, waving vaguely towards the bar further along the beach.

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

his face transforms.

I juggle change in my pocket. “What are you

What

do a bitter chocolate and sour cherry

powerful for me.” He sniffs.

Of course you will….

a good man, but I think you’ll always

to you. You want something you’re never going to get from

But…. You’re nice….

‘nice’

the beach again, eating cornets,

“For a living,

I was a pastry chef. I know it’s one of those dream jobs for a lot of people, but I hated

“Something different?”

a concierge in one of

a

know, the one that went up so quickly

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

enjoy doing. I’ll be on their front desk, so I’ll be seeing people all the time. And the company has a good

sis said something about that too. She’s going through

Well, maybe I’ll get