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.

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

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

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

once more, but this time, his mouth opens

to do that the other night, but I thought maybe I’d be moving too

since anyone kissed me in that way. He doesn’t just want a quick fuck. This man

the semi-rotted fish she is holding, letting it fall to

car to smell of that on the way home.

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

leaps up. “Scruffy.

the 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

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

that suggests that ice cream is just an excuse for

his face transforms. He

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

What have

do a bitter chocolate and sour cherry that’s to

powerful for me.” He sniffs. “I’ll

Of course you will….

I think you’ll always

you. You want

But…. You’re nice….

‘nice’ what I

eating cornets, licking away the dripping

he asks. “For a living, I mean? If you don’t

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

“Something different?”

being taken on as a concierge in one of

a

went

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

the sort of thing I enjoy doing. I’ll be on their front desk, so I’ll be seeing people all the time.

sis said something about that too.

Well, maybe I’ll