Rhonda

Rhonda October 15th, 2024

It was February of 1986 when I flew from SeaTac airport to Santa Barbara, California. I was 33, almost 34. I was tired of the cold, rainy Puget Sound weather, so I flew down to see my friends John and Leon in Santa Barbara.

John, Leon, and I all worked together at a construction company back in Lincoln, Nebraska when John and I were 18 or so. Leon was one of the two architect/owners of the company.

Leon left Lincoln when he and his partner sold the business. John followed Leon out to Santa Barbara. I am not sure why, but when you see Santa Barbara vs. Lincoln, you’ll understand.

When I got off the plane at the Santa Barbara Airport, Leon met me and took me to his place. John was living on a 35’ sailboat in the harbor. Leon lived on a 1/4 acre estate of stucco buildings in the Spanish style. It was very nice.

Santa Barbara smells like flowers. It is the best-smelling place I’ve ever been. The Pacific gives moisture to the town and foliage. The place is paradise. No wonder the rich and famous live there.

John showed me around town, and at sunset, we had hamburgers and beers from a burger joint on the beach. John had brought along his friend Rhonda.

Rhonda was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. She was Jewish and built like Elizabeth Taylor with the face and eyes to match.

Rhonda took a photo of John and I sitting in our low chairs on the beach, drinking beers, gazing out over the Pacific. It was a good photo. Wish I still had it.

The next day, John invited me along on a mushroom class he was taking from the Santa Barbara City College, or “Silly College” as John called it.

Into the morning mist and forest, we went with the instructor and the class. I soon discovered why John took the mushroom hunting class. A beautiful strawberry-blonde girl was in the class. A year or so later, John and the blonde were married and they have a couple of kids.

That evening, John and I went to a party in a bungalow near the beach in the old part of Santa Barbara. Rhonda was there.

At the age of 33/34, I was in good shape. I ran 8 miles a day. Some say I was handsome and looked like Robert Redford but taller. I don’t know. But Rhonda gravitated in my direction at the party.

Soon we were kissing, but she stopped me. “You kiss too hard. Kiss softer, like this.”

And Rhonda gave me a kissing lesson. If I hadn’t been so drunk, maybe I would have seen the red flags.

Rhonda said, “Let’s go back to my place.”

I got in her car and drove to her apartment. It was on the second floor near the beach.

Rhonda went into her bedroom as I got another beer from her fridge. A beautiful redhead met me in the hallway. She was Rhonda’s roommate. The redhead made a pass at me.

Rhonda came out of the bedroom and told the redhead to sod off.

I’d just come down to Santa Barbara for the weather and to see my friends John and Leon. Sex would be a bonus, but I was beginning to wonder about it.

Rhonda told me to sit on the bed while she went into the bathroom to do what women do in the bathroom before sex.

Rhonda came out wearing a silk turquoise robe and perfect makeup. Her mom was a model for Nordstrom’s in Vancouver, Canada. William Shatner, the actor (Captain Kirk) had proposed to Rhonda’s mom, but she turned down Captain Kirk.

Rhonda was my age, and her makeup made her look 25 years old.

So, the usual ensues, but Rhonda interrupts and tells me not to cum too soon. I felt like perhaps I should be… in any event or after the event, I passed out from all the beer and exercise.

The next morning, I awoke to the sound of Rhonda singing in the bathroom and the squawking of a parrot.

I had to piss and went into the bathroom naked. There was Rhonda in all of her naked glory, looking into the mirror and putting on her makeup. She had a towel and parrot on her right shoulder. The parrot had a big, sharp peak, and he eyed me suspiciously. I feared for my Johnson.
That bathroom conversation with Rhonda and the parrot was no doubt worth relating, but I can’t remember a word of it.

The next thing I remember is when Rhonda and I met John at a coffee shop for breakfast. Rhonda was playing footsie with me under the table. John was laughing at me for laying Rhonda. It was weird because Rhonda laid me or something. Santa Barbara girls aren’t like the ones on Puget Sound. We have a joke there, “How do you know a girl is from Seattle?”… “ When she opens her mouth, a light comes on.”

So, that was that. I flew home to SeaTac and my condo in rainy Edmonds.

….

A month or so goes by, and I get a call from Rhonda. She wants to come visit to fly up to Vancouver, BC on one of the Kenmore Air Harbor float planes. Rhonda knew I worked there and could get her a discount. Rhonda said she wanted to see her mom in Canada.

I drove down to SeaTac and picked her up after her flight landed. Then, I took her to the Space Needle for drinks and dinner. It was about an hour before sunset. We had a nice conversation.

Rhonda told me that she wore a wedding ring to keep the men at bay when she traveled. She also told me that her boyfriend in Santa Barbara was a cop and they had fun with his gun.

Again, the red flags were up, but all I could see was Rhonda, the beautiful woman.
We drove back to my condo, and Rhonda went to bed in my bed. I’d already run 8 miles that day but decided that I should run another 8 miles to cool my jets.

When I got home, I took a shower and went to bed, and there was Rhonda. I am only a man…

Again, things didn’t quite work out for us. Rhonda, once awoken, was, well, really awoken, and I’d run 16 miles that day.

After that, I drank more beer, woke up hungover as hell, and then went to the cash machine so we’d have plenty of dough for the flight to Victoria from Kenmore Air Harbor that day.

Rhonda sat in the co-pilot’s seat and the pilot chatted her up on the flight up to Canada. I sat in the back seat trying not to lose focus.

I’d booked a room near the waterfront. It was a nice room. Rhonda wanted to go swimming at a nearby recreation center. The pool was Olympic sized and indoors.

Rhonda in her powder blue bikini was something to see. As she lay on the cement by the pool, she attracted men like bees to honey. Somehow, I managed to get us back to our room, then dinner, and back to our room.

Rhonda wore Brut cologne, a men’s cologne. That was another red flag, and I was finally realizing that I’d have to be a cop with a gun to keep Rhonda by my side and fend off the wolves.

The Brut cologne was making me sick. I physically couldn’t stand being around Rhonda too close for too long.
Rhonda was watching “Miami Vice” on the TV in our room that evening. I was trying to sleep next to her.

Rhonda said, “I’m tired. Wake me up when the cops do that pointy thing with their guns.”

She fell asleep. The cops on “Miami Vice” did the pointy thing with their guns. I let Rhonda sleep.

Rhonda was mad at me for that when she woke up.

The next morning, it was the same bathroom routine as it was in Santa Barbara, minus the parrot. I swear, Rhonda had the most amazing breasts I’ve ever seen.

But we were done. We flew back to Kenmore Air Harbor. I drove her to SeaTac and Rhonda flew back to Santa Barbara.

TJM