Free Topspin by W. Soliman

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