He wanders off, leaving the flustered Rhonda in peace.

Completly unawear of her audience, how close she came to ****, and with absolutely no idea about how her shorts inexplicably ended up around her ankles, a flustered and crimson faced Rhonda finally managed to get to her feet and get her pants back in place. After a quick dust off to get the worst of the sandy soil out of her panties, Rhonda scanned all directions for the culprit as she buttoned and zipped up... And found absolutely nothing. El Blanco already having larely forgotten about her, he was off terrifying an old man up an electrical tower in hopes of meal. He would not succeed in that endevor (but would end up eating a pair of hitchhikers).

"What the hell?" She asked aloud while she dusted off the back of her shorts. The shorts felt tight around her hips like they were supposed to, so they couldn't have just fallen on their own right? But then who pantsed her? She'd left all that behind back when she graduated from High School. Or so she'd assumed. There was no one around for miles, and no tell tale signs of anyone else having snuck up on her.

Absently she returned to her work, noticing another strange disturbance had occured right about the time she was pulling her pants up.

Not connecting those two pieces of information, Rhonda went back to work, but she did subconsciously keep one hand on her shorts now.