My Aerobics Instructor

Recap of Part 3

After her incredibly wild evening of passion with Sherry's eighteen year old daughter Michelle and her eighteen year old friend Reagan, Diane learns that Sherry not only knew that the girls were going to seduce her, but also approved of it and wished she could have been there to participate. Terrified, Diane frantically fled to the home of her ex-husband Gerald and his lover Frank. Then over the next few days, Diane watched helplessly as her life fell completely apart when Sherry sent out a videotaped recording, to just about everyone that Diane knew, of Diane's sexual encounter with the two young vixens. Within days, Diane lost her job, her home, her car and the love of her children. With nothing left for her there and fearing for her physical safety, Diane left Detroit and moved to Seattle, where her sister lives to start a new life. There she met a gentle and beautiful young girl from India named Nanja. Diane and Nanja developed a very special bond and the two of them ultimately spent New Year's Eve in the most ritualistic and spiritually liberating sexual encounter of Diane's life. As the New Year dawns, Nanja seemingly vanishes without a trace; but Diane realizes that Nanja was nothing short of divinity, and that their encounter has given her complete liberation from her past and given her rebirth in the world. Free to live and love again, Diane gets back to her apartment, where she has just received a phone call from her ex-husband.

*

"Sherry and Michelle are dead." Gerald said after a deep exhale.

As the words registered, my heart skipped several beats, my stomach leapt into my throat and I was suddenly gasping for air. At the onset, my hand slapped over my mouth, and my eyes, perhaps only out of natural reflex, immediately welled with tears. After all I been through because of those two, crying over the news of their passing was the last thing I ever expected to do.

"Oh my God. Oh my God!" I gasped into the phone. "What happened?"

Gerald went on to tell me that Sherry and Michelle's bodies had been found in Sherry's office at the health club three days after Christmas. I suddenly felt violently ill as the tears were streaming down my cheeks. For an instant, I couldn't believe how emotional and undone I was feeling about this. Gerald went on with even more shocking details: Sherry was found completely naked, lying over her desk on her stomach. There appeared to be no signs of blunt or forced trauma anywhere; but there where several fresh bite marks, hickeys and deep fingernail scratches all over her back, neck and abdomen. Michelle was found completely clothed, lying on the floor beside the desk with her skull cracked open and blood all over the floor.

"Oh dear God!" I gasped. "It was a crime of passion, wasn't it?"

"Pretty much." Gerald replied.

He went on to say that as the police searched the scene, they discovered the surveillance camera monitoring the office; the same surveillance camera that had recorded my wild night with Michelle and Reagan last March. Anyway, they soon discovered that the whole incident had been recorded. So when the police viewed the tape, they observed Sherry bent over her desk, being penetrated in the vagina with a strap-on worn by what appeared to be a young Latino woman in her late teens to early twenties.

"Reagan!" I shouted.

"Yeah." Gerald said solemnly.

And besides fucking her with a strap-on, Reagan had also wrapped a belt around Sherry's neck, holding and pulling it tightly backward like the reigns on a horse. Apparently certain people had a fetish for wanting to be strangled during sex; the theory being that cutting off oxygen to the brain greatly intensified their orgasm. Now I was really feeling nauseas! I got up off the couch, opened the balcony door and stepped out into the crisp evening air. The breeze off Puget Sound was refreshing and the sky beyond the Olympic Mountains was purple and soft from what was left of the sunset. The lights of downtown Seattle twinkled like stars, the sky above was clear and the moon was bright. I took a couple of deep, cleansing breaths as I watched the elevators going up and down the Space Needle; all the while listening to Gerald as he continued the bone chilling tale. Apparently, from what the video showed; once Sherry collapsed and Reagan realized she was dead, she frantically made a telephone call from the phone on the desk as she hurriedly got dressed. Then about fifteen minutes later, a young Caucasian woman; also in her late teens or early twenties, with strawberry blonde hair arrived.

"Michelle." I said.

"Uh-huh." Gerald replied.

Reagan and Michelle began to argue, shouting at each other initially, but it quickly escalated into a physical altercation. They struggled with each other roughly all over the room, then suddenly they tripped; and as they fell, Michelle's head violently struck a corner of Sherry's desk. My mind quickly flashed back to that wild night in March and I clearly remembered how thick, hard and unforgiving Sherry's desktop was. The coroner determined, Gerald went on, that most likely Michelle was killed instantly. After which, Reagan immediately jumped up and frantically fled the scene. I flopped down on my back on one of the reclining sun chairs on the balcony, laying my arm over my eyes. By now my mind was seizing with overload as it tried to process this horrible chain of events. But unfortunately, the chain hadn't run out of links yet.

"What's happened to Reagan? I asked. "Has she been arrested?"

Gerald was silent for what seemed like an eternity. I could hear him clear his throat and take a few deep breaths. I could also hear Frank's voice whispering something to him. Gerald, just like me, had known Michelle since the day she was born and known Reagan since Whitney first brought her home after school when she was in the fourth grade. He was always especially fond of Reagan because she loved sports so much, just like him.

"Reagan's dead, too." He finally managed to spit out.

As his words passed from the phone into my ear, the whole world around me seemed to come to a halt; the ferries crossing the sound, the elevators going up the Space Needle, even the plane flying over my apartment building seemed to freeze in time. Suddenly I sprang up into a seated position as I felt my stomach convulse and my heart stop. I half expected to seem my stomach fly out of my mouth.

"What?" I gagged on my saliva.

Gerald again took another long moment to collect his thoughts, and his emotions, then proceeded to finish the story. Once the authorities identified Reagan, they immediately dispatched arresting officers to her house. However by the time they arrived, they found Reagan face down on her bedroom floor. The autopsy revealed that she had taken a massive amount of assorted prescription pills. By this time, I just couldn't take anymore. I told Gerald as much, and he said he would email me the newspaper story for me to look at when I felt up to it. I clicked off the cordless phone, threw it back into the living room, lay back on the sun chair, balled up in the fetal position and sobbed. I wanted Nanja. When I woke up it was still dark and I was shaking like a leaf in the freezing cold of the night. I went inside and saw the message light blinking on the answering machine. It was the pizza delivery kid telling me that he pounded on my door for nearly half an hour but nobody ever answered. I checked my watch and it was just after eleven o'clock.

I took a long hot shower, all the while with images of Sherry, Michelle and Reagan racing through my memory. Then I began to wonder if it had all been a dream. I got out of the shower and put on my night shirt. I was just about to phone Gerald to confirm whether he actually called with such a story or if it all had just been a dream, when I suddenly realized that Detroit was three hours ahead of Seattle and that it was nearly two-thirty in the morning there. I turned on my laptop computer and logged in to check my email. An email from Gerald marked urgent, containing a large attachment sent just three hours ago confirmed that it wasn't a dream; Sherry, Michelle and Reagan were all dead and I had the front page of the Detroit Newspaper staring me in the face to prove it. As I read the attachment of the newspaper story, I suddenly realized that this was the first time since that night last March that I'd actually seen Sherry, Michelle and Reagan; recent photos of all of them were on the newspaper page with the story. I once again found tears in my eyes as I stared at the pictures of Michelle and Reagan. They both looked so beautiful in their cap and gown graduate photos with sparkling smiles beaming at the camera. Sherry's photo too was quite captivating; sitting cross legged on one of the workout stations in the club.

It was just about one o'clock in the morning when I finally shut off my computer and crawled into bed. I lay awake for a long while as my mind continued to spin. I tossed and turned for a good hour before I finally started to feel sleepy. Just as I was about to drift off to sleep, a strange feeling came over me. It was one I didn't expect: Loss. I sat up suddenly and flipped on the lamp beside my bed as if I were about to argue with whomever brought that thought into my head. After all the suffering, humiliation and turmoil being involved with those three had caused me, how could I possibly feel loss over their deaths? With anger bubbling up inside me like lava, I suddenly heard Nanja's gentle voice whispering deep in my soul. She was telling me that I should feel loss; that regardless of how things had turned out, Sherry, Michelle and Reagan had all played a vital role in creating the woman that I am today. They altered the course of my life forever; and in doing so, perhaps in a very unique and remote way, they saved my life. And whether I realized it or not, I loved them all very deeply. Because for brief moments in time, I was an intimate part of each of them and they each were an intimate part of me. And despite the obvious twisted mentalities, how could they have brought so much unbridled passion into our sex encounters if they didn't have equally passionate love, or at least lust, for me in their heart and souls? With these thoughts passing through my soul, echoed through the gentle voice of dear Nanja, I drifted off to sleep. The next morning I awoke for the first time since that fateful March night, with Sherry, Michelle and Reagan holding warm and special places in my heart and memory.

I spent the morning at the library debating on whether or not I should fly back to Detroit for the funeral. I spoke to Gerald on my lunch hour and he told me that he didn't think it was too good of an idea. He had called Whitney to give her the news and she was coming home for the funeral herself. What he told me next sent my stomach into somersaults and my heart into furious pounding: Whitney had, for the first time in nearly a year asked about, and even expressed concern for me. He told me that she wanted to know if I was okay and that if the police in anyway suspected me of some involvement. I now understood why he didn't think I should come back; Whitney was beginning to come around to possibly wanting me back in her life. I was floating on air for the rest of the afternoon.

Late in February, I was at work at the library one afternoon; returning books to the shelves and thinking about Whitney. Though Gerald had told me that she was possibly warming back up to me, I had still never heard from her. My forty-fifth birthday had come and gone in mid January, and I had gotten cards and calls from Junior and Monica, but still nothing from Whitney. I guess I had let my expectations get too high and now I was feeling very let down. As I turned to place an armful of books back on the shelf, I bumped into a stunning woman thumbing through a series of medical encyclopedias. The books toppled out of my arms and on to the floor. I apologized profusely for bumping her and then squatted down to pick up the books I'd dropped. As I was gathering them up, the woman squatted down in front of me, picked up a book that was just out of my reach and slipped it into my hand. Our fingers brushed against one another and there was a powerful spark. When I looked up, I was captivated by a beautiful pair of sparkling green eyes and breathing in the delicious scent of Cocao Chanel perfume.

"You okay, Diane?" She said in a deep, sensual voice.

I could only smile and nod for I was so entranced by her that I momentarily forgot how to talk. I could feel my cheeks flushing and felt an erotic tingling sensation crawl up my spinal cord. She parted her luscious, ruby lips and displayed a sparkling white smile back at me. We stood and she helped me put the books back on the cart. I thanked her for all her help and then it suddenly dawned on me: She'd called me by my name.

"Excuse me, but did you just call me Diane?" I asked.

"Yes." She answered with a smile. "That's your name, isn't it?"

"Yes. But, how'd you know." I asked incredulously.

Her long, sleek arm reached out and her finger gently tapped on the right side of my chest above my breast. I felt another spark along with a sudden flash of heat in my pussy.

"Says so on your name tag." She said.

I felt my face flush again and I could almost see the reflective glow in her sunglasses that were perched up in her shiny auburn hair just above her forehead.

"But that's not how I knew." She continued. "We've met before."

Now I was really confused. How could I possibly have met this incarnation of the goddess Aphrodite herself and not remembered it?

"Don't you remember?" She asked. "My husband and I came over to Pamela's house for Christmas Dinner and you were there. You're her younger sister, right?"

"Oh my God! Doctor Kenmore?" I asked.

"Kathleen, please." She said.

Kathleen smiled sweetly as she held out her hand. Now it all came back. Kathleen's husband was one of the founding partners in James's law firm and Kathleen was Pamela's partner in their medical practice. They had come to dinner on Christmas Day and I remembered now not really noticing Kathleen because I was too busy getting pissed off watching her husband Troy flirt with Tiffany; and even worse, Tiffany seeming to enjoy it. But how could I have not noticed Kathleen? For a woman that had just celebrated her fiftieth birthday, Kathleen was heart stopping gorgeous. She stood nearly six feet tall; a good three inches taller than me, with bright and shiny auburn hair that draped down just passed the tops of her shoulders. Her skin was pure and perfect porcelain without the slightest imperfection or even the hint of a wrinkle. Kathleen donned a bright white designer pants suit that accentuated her sumptuously round and firm hips, thighs and ass. Her long legs had a full set of wonderfully defined curves and her perky all-natural 36 D-cup tits seemed to be calling by name. As I shook her hand I felt another spark and I could have sworn that I saw her nipples harden through her suit. She felt it too.

Kathleen walked with me as I made my rounds returning books to the shelves then asked if I'd like to join her for a cup of coffee. We were soon on the observation deck of the Space Needle watching the sunset over the Olympic Mountains. February is a light tourist month, so the observation deck crowd was light. We sat at a table near the window and Kathleen slipped off the jacket of her suit, hung it over the back of the stool and sat down. I nearly gasped as I sucked in a shocked breath when I beheld her without her jacket. Her sleeveless pullover was low cut and clung tightly to her slender torso and the fabric was straining hard against the pressure of her beautiful tits. We both reached for the cream at the same time and our hands touched again. I immediately saw her nipples harden and peep out at me through her shirt and bra. My nipples got hard too. After our coffee, Kathleen invited me to dinner at the Sky City restaurant; the revolving floor fine dining spot at the top of the Seattle Space Needle, which was now one level below us. During dinner my eyes kept finding their way to the wedding ring on Kathleen's left hand and I was constantly filling with guilt. Here I was having a romantic dinner at one of the most sought after restaurants in the world with a married woman. Of course, Kathleen probably didn't realize that this was a romantic dinner. Or did she? About half way through dinner, Kathleen got a page and had to go immediately to the hospital. We rode down the elevator and waited for the valet to retrieve our cars. When they pulled up Kathleen's BMW, we shook hands and she very gently kissed me on the hand like a southern gentlemen of old. I felt my body tremble with excitement and my nipples harden instantly. Kathleen hopped into her car, said she'd call me tomorrow and drove off.

I drove home with millions of questions racing through my head. Did Kathleen know I was a lesbian? Was she interested in me? What about her husband? What would Pamela say? I didn't have the answer to any of them, I only knew that I was definitely infatuated and couldn't get the beautiful doctor out of my mind. I felt knots deep in my stomach and my heart raced the entire drive home. It was still racing as I walked in the door. I think I was falling in love. I took a long shower and went absolutely crazy on myself as I fantasized about Kathleen. By ten-thirty, I was in my nightshirt and crawling into bed to watch David Letterman. As I reached for the TV remote, the phone rang. Since I was already reaching for the remote without looking, I just snapped up the phone instead and didn't even bother to look at the caller ID.

"Hello." I chirped into the phone.

"I know I'm a little late, but Happy Birthday, Mom."

It was Whitney.

My heart went from zero to a million instantly as my stomach leapt into my throat and my mind raced for something to say.

"Hi, baby." I heard myself say.

Whitney and I talked for nearly three hours about everything and anything. It had been almost a year since we had last spoken when she told me that she hated me and that as far as she was concerned, her mother was dead. We both went through brief moments of sobbing uncontrollably to laughing hysterically back too more uncontrollable sobbing. Finally, Whitney told me that she loved me and missed me so much. Michelle and Reagan's deaths had really opened her eyes, and based on the facts of the situation, she realized how sick they were. It scared her to think that she had once been friends with them. Then after some professional therapy, as well as talking to her father, Frank and her siblings, she finally came to the conclusion that despite all else, I was her mother and that she couldn't live without me. We talked about my step over into lesbianism, and she confessed that what had really set her off was not the fact that I had sex with Michelle and Reagan; it was the fact that she had too. Whitney had thought for a long time that she had lesbian tendencies and it scared her to death. It repulsed her; and now the fact that her mother had turned that direction horrified her. But now she was becoming more comfortable with it and realized that it didn't make her any less of a human if she loved women instead of men. As I listened to her cry, I wished with everything I had that I could hold her. We finished our call, and as she hung up, she called me "Mommy." I hung up the phone in tears and curled up under the covers. In one day I had been reunited with my baby girl and possibly met the woman of my dreams.

Kathleen and I began spending a lot of time together; but it was more like high school friends going to the mall than dating. Which from Kathleen's point of view was all it should be; and for me too, because I really began to like Kathleen as a friend. In truth, I really didn't have any friends in Seattle. It was very nice and I soon realized that Kathleen was becoming one of the best friends I've ever had. Then around Memorial Day, Kathleen called one evening and invited me to her son's wedding in Hawaii, on the island of Maui. At first, I was very reluctant, although a week on Maui sounded absolutely divine; but the bottom line was, I didn't know her son at all. She said a lot of people come to a wedding where the bride and groom haven't got the slightest clue who they are; and their family, for God's sake. Kathleen went on to say that I was one of the best friend's she'd ever had and wanted me to be there with her. I was so moved that I nearly began to cry. Besides, Pamela and James were coming too. So, she twisted my arm.