Topspin (9 page)

“Come on, darlin’!”

Stella forced her feet toward him. She knew what he’d want and was repulsed by the very idea. But it didn’t cross her mind to object. Better to get it over with as quickly as possible rather than face the consequences of a rebellion. She distracted herself from the odious feel of her husband’s hands clawing at her body by recalling the kindly expression in Jack’s eyes as he offered to give Ed a good thrashing on her behalf. Would the day ever come when she’d feel desperate enough to take him up on it?

Ed appeared to be in no hurry today, and Stella was almost beyond despair when he finally spluttered to a climax, grunting and groaning loud enough to alert the entire neighborhood to their activities. If he’d even noticed she hadn’t come close to reaching an orgasm it didn’t appear to bother him. He slapped her behind and told her to get him a cold drink and bring the post out to him.

Stella turned away, and the tears of humiliation that had been building ever since they’d left the club streamed down her face. She took some time to compose herself before returning to the garden and handing Ed his drink and a pile of letters, many of which looked like final demands. Her suspicions were borne out when he tore them open and tossed them aside one by one, swearing vociferously. Stella sighed. The calming effect of outdoor sex hadn’t lasted long, and she’d bet the farm that he’d be after a repeat performance before the afternoon was out.

Claire was glad that her son Chris was going straight to tennis after school and that she didn’t need to pick him up. Joe would be working late too, which meant she’d have time for a long soak in the bath. She’d wash away all traces of her afternoon’s activities—even though there was little she could do about the wheals, bite marks, and internal soreness—and take the opportunity to get herself together.

And think about what she’d done.

Claire pulled into the driveway of their luxury house. Situated close to the prestigious Royal Yacht Squadron, it afforded them an unimpeded view over Cowes’ esplanade and the Solent beyond—the same view that Jack enjoyed from his penthouse, only far more exclusive. She gazed at it now without seeing it, only vaguely conscious of the Southampton ferry slowly working its way through the throng of yachts littering the harbor and straying into the buoyed channel supposedly reserved for its exclusive use.

The house seemed unnaturally quiet when Claire let herself in. Her every wish had been incorporated into the place when Joe had purchased it and arranged a complete revamp. He commanded respect among the locals, understood how to get things done and kept on top of the work at all stages, ensuring that it was completed on time and within budget. Claire felt a fresh bout of appreciation for her husband. Intelligence in a man turned her on almost as much as the prospect of rough sex. Feelings of shame at the way she’d passed the afternoon, at the devastation it would cause Joe if he ever found out, threatened to overwhelm her.

She glanced about her, looking for a distraction. Her cleaning lady had been in and everything was immaculate. Throwing her bag onto the hall table, she wandered into the spacious kitchen. Cathy had prepared one of her famous fish stews, so all Claire had to do was make a salad and heat the stew up when Joe got home. The gardener had also been around today. The flower borders, drenched in afternoon sunshine, were stuffed to overflowing with a riot of color. The garden was as orderly as the house itself, not a leaf out of place.

Every tiny domestic detail had been taken care of so that Claire would have nothing to do but please herself. Perhaps that was part of her problem? Joe’s business life was organized by his staff, their son was growing more independent by the day, and she didn’t feel as though she had a purpose. Having it all wasn’t necessarily a good thing when she didn’t know what to do with the freedom it afforded her. Apart from tennis, Claire didn’t have any overwhelming desire to adopt other hobbies. Joe had suggested a couple of times that she get involved with charitable committees connected to the hospital, but when she showed little enthusiasm for the idea he didn’t force the issue.

She went to the master suite and shed her clothes, throwing everything into the dirty linen basket with considerable force. The guilt that always hit her after one of her trysts kicked in and her outfit bore the brunt of her self-disgust. The dress itself was a study in understated chic, deceptively expensive, but was now tarnished by association in Claire’s mind. She’d never wear it again. Catching sight of her naked body in the full length mirror, she gasped at this graphic reminder of her afternoon’s depravity. She’d become so engrossed that she didn’t realize they’d marked her in ways no amount of makeup would conceal.

Claire ran a bath, emptied half a bottle of soothing balm into it, and winced as she lowered herself into the steaming water. She fervently hoped that Joe would be as exhausted as he usually was when he finished one of his clinics and wouldn’t want sex tonight. For the first time ever, she didn’t think she’d be able to accommodate him.

What in God’s name had she done? This couldn’t go on. At last Claire had come to her senses. When Rod contacted her again, she’d definitely tell him it was over. Regret surged through her, nudging aside a healthy wedge of her self-disgust. Perhaps if she regained control of the relationship and conducted it on her terms, without overstepping the mark again…

But even as the thought filtered through her mind, Claire knew she was deceiving herself. She’d never been the one in control. Her brief spell of shame was rapidly wearing off, and instead she was reliving the feel of Rod and Paul taking her together. Forcing themselves into her, driving her wild as they brought her to the brink, and then stopping to make her beg them for it. Stopping again and making her talk about her relationship with Joe, forcing her to admit that she wanted them to violate her. Just recalling the incident was arousing her and, fingers working frantically beneath the water, it took mere seconds to bring herself to a noisy climax.

Calm again, Claire continued to ponder her difficulty and was so immersed in thought she didn’t hear the front door open. Nor did she hear footsteps pounding up the stairs and approaching the bathroom. She cried out in alarm when the door was flung open.

“It’s okay, Mum, it’s only me. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Chris!” She breathed a sigh of relief. For one guilt-stricken moment she thought Joe had come home unexpectedly. “What brings you home so early, darling?”

She relaxed and quickly sunk her shoulders beneath the bubbles, before her son could see the red wheals and bite marks on the upper side of her breasts. She hoped he hadn’t been in the house long enough to hear her cries as she brought herself off. Theirs had always been an open-door sort of house. Chris was used to seeing both of his parents in the buff and thought it perfectly natural to walk into his mother’s bathroom without knocking first. But they’d both be hugely embarrassed if he’d overheard her masturbating.

Claire loved that Chris still wanted to tell her everything that happened to him during his day, running his problems past her and asking for her advice. She could see at a glance that he had something on his mind which was likely to take a while to explain. Chris, like his father, didn’t care to be rushed, and it would look odd if she let him ramble on but stayed in the bath when the water had cooled. What to do?

“Oh, there wasn’t any tennis today. Just that new coach giving us all a pep talk.” He shrugged shoulders that appeared to be getting broader by the day. “I got bored.”

“You didn’t like him?”

“He’s all right, I suppose. Pretty cool, really.”

“Then what?”

“Mum.” Chris sat on the closed toilet seat and settled in for the long heart-to-heart that Claire was desperate, for once, to avoid. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Of course you can, darling.”

“Well, how do you know if someone fancies you?”

Claire almost laughed with relief. Her handsome son’s face was so serious, she’d been worried for a moment that he might have got wind of her afternoon’s activities.

“Oh, that’s easy. All the signs will be there if you know what to look for. The expressive stares, the excuses made to get close to you, opportunities created to make conversation, to accidentally touch. Besides, if the attraction’s mutual you’ll feel it instinctively somewhere deep inside.”

“But what if I don’t?”

“Chris, have you had a girlfriend yet? You haven’t mentioned anyone or brought anyone home.”

He blushed. “Not really. No one special, anyway.”

“Then if you like someone, just ask her out and have some fun. You work too hard trying to please your father with your grades, which is good, but you’re only young once and shouldn’t waste opportunities to enjoy yourself.”

Chris shifted uncomfortably. His face was a study in awkwardness, causing Claire to forget her own concerns and concentrate her whole attention on her son.

He bowed his head and addressed his remarks to the floor. “Sheba. I really like her and I thought she liked me. She said we’d play doubles together today, but when I got to the club she wasn’t even there.” His expression darkened. “She hasn’t even sent a message to say why she couldn’t come. It’s like she’s forgotten all about it and I was really looking forward to it. Had been all day.”

Claire almost smiled. How like his father he was! Her beloved son was a really good looking boy, and popular too. He could have anyone he wanted, but he was so lacking in self-confidence that someone of Sheba’s ilk would run rings round him.

“Sheba’s just testing you, darling. The best thing you can do is pretend you don’t care and go off to play with someone else the next time she does turn up.”

“I’m not good at those sorts of games, Mum.”

Claire, seeing a fat tear running down her son’s face, instinctively sat up to comfort him. “Darling, whatever’s wrong? It can’t be that bad.”

But Chris wasn’t listening anymore. Instead he was staring incredulously, his eyes riveted on his mother’s ravaged breasts. In her concern for him she’d forgotten all about concealing her injuries. Chris let out a strangled cry, leapt up, and headed for the door.

“Chris, come back, darling. We need to talk about this.”

“Forget it! Dad didn’t do that to you, that’s for sure, and I don’t want to know who did.” She could hear his feet pounding back down the stairs and almost missed his final comment which preceded the slamming of the front door. “I hate you!”

“Hello, Angie.” Rod smiled lazily at his wife.

“Isn’t it brilliant, Mum!” Sheba’s eyes were shining. “Dad was waiting outside of school for us. I didn’t know he was coming.”

“No, nor did I.” Angela ground her teeth. “He must have forgotten to mention it.”

Malik looked at his mother with concern in his eyes.

“Well, isn’t this nice?” Rod said. “All together again like a proper family.”

“Kids, go to your rooms for a while. I need to have a few words with your dad.”

“No chance! Dad said he’d take us all into Newport for a pizza.” Sheba, suddenly the model daughter, snuggled closer to her father. “We were just waiting for you.”

Still Malik didn’t speak, but Angela barely noticed. She was too intent upon containing her fury at Rod, who clearly didn’t know how to stick to a bargain. Her mind went into overdrive. After looking at Sheba’s face, she knew she couldn’t just throw him out on his ear as her every instinct screamed at her to do. They’d go for a pizza, then she’d pack the kids off to bed and have it out with him once and for all. It would be better that way, and with the children in the house there was no way she’d be able to weaken when he attempted to work his charm on her, as he inevitably would. Right now he had one arm draped around Sheba’s shoulders, and the fingers of his other hand were drumming innocently enough on his thigh. To an outsider his actions might appear non-contrived, but Angela knew him too well to be deceived.