The instructress, a striking blonde, was directing her through a strenuous routine of bending stretches. Lisa's coach barked several guttural commands...at her charge, and then strode over to me. She wore a white loosely fitted tunic-like blouse and thin baggy knee-length shorts. There was a black belt tied around her waist. With a noticeable German accent she told me her name was Ingrid. As we shook hands we took the other's measure. I noticed her handshake was as strong and confident as a. “Is he on the phone to Marie?” she asked.“Who’s Marie?” Tim asked, in return.“His wife. Tall, red hair.”“Hah, never heard of her. We know his wife all too well,” he winked at Russ as he said it.Kay smiled at the idea that he’d left that manipulative bitch that set out to destroy her life. She recalled the stories that Marie spread, mostly true, about her wanton ways with various men, including the handsome man that was now making his way into the house.“Shit hey,” he remarked. “Kay fuckin’. More

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