Excerpts from Ann Rule Deconstructed

JUMPING BACK IN TIME A LITTLE, for recreation, and as a reprieve to the hedonistic and adventurous swinging scene, Joan Huston and I frequently took road trips. Admittedly, I initially organized these types of trips because I had another agenda. Later, they became one of our priorities.

If there was a chink in the armor of my relationship with Joan, it was her drinking. Alcohol could and would, change her personality. Sometimes it was okay, and then other times it was a very bad thing. This did not mean I loved her any less; it was a red flag, early on. Despite my complete inexperience with alcoholism, I recognized it as a problem we should try to avoid. Intentionally, I began to steer-away from any social plans or situations, which guaranteed the potential for heavy alcoholic consumption. One of the diversions I came up with was to take road trips to incorporate Joan's interest in exploring, and my interest in camping/hunting.

Joan was never a prissy, don't-get-me-dirty girl. We would wash ourselves in mountain streams, cook on campfires, and eat the wild game I killed, or caught. Several times we both took juniper (pine and tamarack too) smoke baths as well. She enjoyed our remote trips to explore not only small towns, but also especially old abandoned homesteads. Deserted farms, especially those in remote areas, usually presented the most fascinating glimpse of the human struggle.

These road trips required us to drive 3 to 5 hours (sometimes longer) across the state in our VW camper van. There was never a road trip we took that was not interrupted by at least one, maybe two, "[perceived] emergency" pull-over to have rip-your-clothes-off sex in the van, and even once or twice, outside in the woods, even on the ground. We joked about how pathetic we were, completely unable to resist the urge to fuck. These were great times.

When I lived in Madison Park, I re-met Joan K. Keeney, a woman I casually knew at the University of Washington, but never dated. Joan K. was a strikingly beautiful and gorgeous redhead, tall (5'10"), with a model's body, and natural 34D breasts. Joan was also Phi Beta Kappa and graduated Summa Cum Laude from the University of Washington. She was a very, very bright lady. In college, I was a member of the Theta Chi Fraternity, and Joan K. lived next door in the Gamma Phi Beta sorority (her pledge sorority sister was Cheryl Keeton). Joan K., in college, dated Frank, one of my fraternity brothers.

In 1975, when Joan K. and I started to date, I was becoming financially successful, earning the equivalent of more than $100,000 per year, and beginning to dabble in commercial real estate development. Joan Keeney's father was an architect, and she was generally familiar with the types of work I was doing. At this time, Joan K. was teaching second grade, also in the Bellevue School District (same as Joan Huston). Joan K. moved into my Madison Park apartment, and began to work with me on my commercial developments, initially a 6-unit apartment, and then a 21-unit apartment building, both being built in Kirkland, Washington. We formed a corporation, and called it SMALL VENTURES, Inc. The apartments were named, "habitats" (Lakeview Habitat; Sylvan Habitat). At this time I formed another company called International Leasing, and placed the ownership of my 36' sailboat into the new company. The boat was named "The Last Habitat".

Cheryl and I continued to live together in Madison Park in our waterfront condominium. Life was good. We planned to marry and have children. We traveled extensively, and took time to go sailing in our sailboats on Lake Washington and Puget Sound. On one of our road-trips over the North Cascades Highway, I clearly recall she bought me a light-blue, cotton, long-sleeved, Levi's button shirt. When she gave it to me, I did not like it, but I did not know why. I never wore the shirt. Now as I sit here writing this, behind me, hanging from my clothes hooks, are two of these exact shirts, same color, same cut, same buttons, everything. They are standard Oregon Department of Corrections prison-issue shirts. The only thing they are missing is the little red Levi's tag on the pocket.

This photo of Cheryl was taken in Palm Springs, California

Years later I was to find myself in another, similarly erotic experience with my long-time girlfriend, and former Portland, Oregon resident, April Ann Arwood.

We were visiting from Houston. It was a dreary, rainy day in the Northwest, which had caused us to suffer through a rough, bumpy flight into Portland earlier that day. It was around noon when I rented a car at the airport, and we drove to the Lloyd Center Red Lion Inn where we had reservations. There was nothing on my itinerary that showed we had planned anything for the evening.

After checking into the hotel, we went directly to our room for good, mid-day, jet-lag sex, followed by an afternoon nap, and later, room service. After eating our light dinner, we opted to go downstairs and sit in the lobby bar to people-watch.