A Charity Case

"That's nice. He calls me his angel."

"Angela is your name."

"He doesn't know that." To Pedro, "My name is 'Angela'."

"Si. Angela mia es angela verdad."

"No. No. Her name is Gretchen. My name is Angela. What is your name?"

"Ah. Si. Gretchen. Angela. Pedro. Pedro Miguel Rodriguez Santos de la Garza."

Gretchen laughed, "His name is bigger than he is." Turning to Pedro, she told him, "Well now you are Patricia. Can you say Patricia?"

"Patricia?" Pedro was puzzled. Angie explained it to him. Gesturing at the dress, she again said, "Patricia." This time Pedro understood. Gretchen stuck her foot back in.

"Good. Now Patricia, do you have any money for cab fare? Dinero?" Shaking like a leaf, Pedro returned with his life savings: $11.53. Gretchen did not notice, but Angie's eye widened when she saw the empty cloth that served as a wallet. This, too, she would never forget. Chapter 2: House Rules

Getting a cab proved a challenge, but three well dressed girls will not scare one off. Soon they were moving across the bridge to Manhattan. Once in the car, Angie and Gretchen held a hushed argument about what would happen on arrival.

Saint Evangelina Missionary Hotel for Women, better known as Saint Evie's, was one of the places wealthy New York families sent their prized daughters. The accommodations were snug, by Park Avenue standards, but the security was unparalleled. The hotel was well situated to the uptown area and cabs were on contract for trips to the various colleges and universities. Even far off Columbia had regular service. Likewise, there was a bonded messenger service, as well as a nurse on staff and MD on call.

This was all nice. The main attraction, to parents, was that no men were allowed above the lobby—ever. Not boyfriends, brothers, or even fathers. Only bonded furniture movers, escorted, were allowed upstairs, and then on a posted schedule. It was the preferred way to deliver virgins to the altar. Immediately on moving in, Gretchen had fought an undercover war against the principal of virginity. This was, by far, her boldest attack.

The hotel's first line of defense was the staff, led by Irina Walker. Gretchen started by attacking the strongest point.

"Miss Walker. This is Patricia de la Garza. She's Puerto Rican and her boyfriend just threw her out, so she has no place to stay. Plus she hit her head. Poor thing. Can she have permission to stay for a few days til she can find a place?"

Miss Walker—she was 55 and still a Miss—had been an army nurse in WW II France. She usually believed very little that the girls in her charge said to her, but Pedro's very real, and very fresh, bruises convinced her quite well.

"She could have had a concussion with a bump like that, but she seems alert enough. When did it happen? Did you wash the wound?" Miss Walker was satisfied with Miss de la Garza's injuries, but not with Miss Schneider.

Gretchen recognized victory. As long as the attention was on her, and not Pedro, this were good. "Maybe two hours ago. I didn't see it all, but I saw her hit her head. She was pretty dizzy for a while, but Angela and I got her on her feet. We were near a service station, so we could wash her and throw away her torn dress. I had this one in my gym bag. I thought for a minute the guy would kick her in the face."

That covered three questions that had leaped to Miss Walker's mind: lack of blood, a familiar dress and the smell of shampoo. Then her attention returned to Pedro, who was feeling extremely shy. At that moment, he could not have chosen a better attitude. Miss Walker reached her decision.

"Such a pretty girl. Well, she should not be left alone tonight. Is she going to sleep with you?"

Angie had been looking the other way, so she was safe. She would forever after be impressed when Gretchen managed a straight face and even voice. "Actually, Miss Walker, that's exactly what I had in mind."

"Very good then, Miss Schneider. Frankly, I didn't think you capable of it."

"Oh, I'm full of surprises, Miss Walker."

Pedro did not know what to make of the Hotel. He knew that a large piece of his money, which he had painstakingly saved up over six months, had gone to cab fair. He also knew a rich house when he saw one. It did not take him long to notice that only women went anywhere. Patricia. Mia nombre, no, my name, is Patricia.

Within minutes they were on the fifth floor, where Gretchen held court. She had been there two years and these were her girls. Of the seven, three had arrived virgins. Not one remained so by the end of the first week. Three were secretly on the pill. All carried condoms and diaphragms. Til this night, no one had ever managed to get a boy past Miss Walker. These were the makings of a party.

Gretchen announced, "Girls. Gather round. This is our new friend Patricia, or, as his mother named him, Pedro."

"Oh Gretch. She's not a he. She's too pretty." Gretchen's smile turned predatory.

"He is. Besides, would I lie about some thing like that? I might lie with some thing like that, but never about it. Plus, I can prove it. But, to business. We need clothes, girls, for Patricia. And makeup. She's wearing Angela's. Mine is the wrong color. Let's go."

Within five minutes, Patricia was presented with clothes worth more than his rich uncles farm. He was thoroughly embarrassed. Still, he had come and his Angela was smiling. So he allowed himself to be dressed and undressed by unfamiliar women. So many things were odd, it was essentially just one more thing. One of the other odd things was the way the women were looking at him. He felt like a lamb being chosen for slaughter.

That all changed. There was a full length mirror. Pedro had only seen them in store windows. After one set of clothes had been pulled off, and another pulled on, Pedro saw his reflection. He was shocked at the transformation, and the next one, and the next. In a riding outfit, he looked trim. In a tennis outfit, he looked athletic. In a day dress, he looked sweet. In a yellow formal, he looked breathtaking. Everything that he, Pedro de la Garza, could not be, when wearing rough men's clothing, he achieved in expensive young women's wear. Pedro fell in love with it all.

He even fell in love with shoes. At first, Pedro did not understand them. About an hour into the fashion deluge, the girls dressed him in a spaghetti strap formal. With his hair tied back by a ribbon and clipped earrings on his ears, he thought he looked nice. When they finally found a pair of pumps he could wear, forget the color, he was shocked at the transformation. He stood taller, straighter, his padded breasts stood higher. Had he seen himself in Puerto Rico two years before, he would have fallen madly in love.

The party lasted til 2:00 AM. Miss Walker came up at 10:00 to break it up, but saw what was going on, and let it slide. The next day was Sunday, and church was at 10:30, so they could stay up a little later. Besides, there had been the chance of a concussion. Keeping a concussion awake, if there was a concussion, was a good thing. With a "Don't tire her out dears", Miss Walker turned in for the night. Pedro had been wearing only a terrycloth robe and makeup. Miss Walker never noticed anything out of the ordinary.

At last, the girls had drifted off in ones and twos and there was only Patricia, Angela and Gretchen. Angela, reading the writing on the wall, bent over and kissed him softly on the lips. Then she went off to her room. Pedro watched her go. At that moment, he decided that, however much he liked being Patricia, he would always be Pedro for Angela.

Sex with Gretchen was anticlimactic. Pedro was still a virgin and Gretchen was tired. They performed sufficiently to satisfy a legal standard and went to sleep, spooned together. That part was Pedro's favorite thing of the whole evening. As sleep finally claimed him, he decided that he could get used to this. Chapter 3: Shopping

In the morning, things went smoothly. Pedro rose first. He began to learn the intricacies of American plumbing. Shortly, there was a parade of partially clad female assistance and a lot of good natured fun. By the time Gretchen chose to come out, he was alone again, shaving. This led to their most companionable time together—shaving each other's legs. Pedro had to admit, in a side by side comparison, his legs were at least as good as hers, maybe better. He hoped Gretchen found a man soon, since her thick ankles promised thickness in other areas.

Gretchen was soon dashing around, getting made up, for her tennis date. Pedro felt out of place in her room, so he put on a housecoat and went into the common area. Each floor had a library/study area, with a TV. In Puerto Rico, only the richest homes had television. In America everyone did. He watched a Mass, in Latin, which was heart achingly familiar. He watched part of a show, with many angry men, called "Meet the Press." Then he switched to baseball. Then a movie.

After an hour or so, he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Angela. She motioned to him to come and he did. He expected some kind of sexual gesture, such as he had come to expect from Gretchen. Instead, she counted out the money he had spent on the taxi and kissed him on the cheek. She helped him choose an outfit from the many odds and ends he had received, helped him put on his makeup and led him outside. It was Sunday afternoon on the Upper East Side. People were about, seeing and being seen. Pedro felt naked from all the attention he received from men passing by. Patricia was evidently an attractive woman.

Being Sunday, even in New York City, in the 1960's most shops were closed. Angela knew the exceptions. She led Pedro to one of the open ones. Before they went in, she pressed $20 into his hands and put her finger to his lips. Shocked by this fortune, Pedro followed numbly into what proved to be a shoe store. Half an hour later they walked out with two pair of casual shoes, a pair of office girl heels and a general purpose handbag. Three shops, and the better part of $100 later, they had filled in the gaps in the clothing shower of the night before.

Coming in the hotel, Miss Walker looked up and nodded them through. Miss Walker had many doubts about Gretchen, but Angela Molinari was pure gold in her book. As they entered the elevator, Miss Walker noted how Patricia's outfit had been accessorized. This, from Miss Molinari's own pocket if Miss Walker was any judge. Clearly, Miss Molinari had taken Patricia under wing. While Miss Schneider had taken the lead before, Miss Walker doubted her staying power. If Miss Molinari spent time with Miss de la Garza, then she would not be spending time with Miss Schneider. Another decision was made.

Miss Walker picked up the phone. She had mentioned, to some of the ladies at church that morning, that there was a new girl staying for a few days. Charity case. She did not seem to have a cent, but the girls seemed to be rallying around her. In Miss Walker's rarely mistaken opinion, Patricia de la Garza might be just the thing to build some character in a few of these wild girls. Within 10 minutes, arrangements were made to move Patricia into a soon to be vacant room, on the fifth floor.

Meanwhile, Angela took Pedro to the fifth floor restroom. Pulling out the bags of cosmetics, which they had just purchased, Angela patiently showed Pedro how to strip off the old and apply the new. At first Pedro found it a bit horrifying. He had become a painted street walker. Then, he had a thought. Angela wore this "makeup", as did all the other girls in the house. Pedro did not know much, but he knew money when he saw it. So he paid patient attention to the lesson, and presently it made a little sense.

He also noticed that the close presence of an attractive female was very exciting. When he finally worked up the courage to make a fumbling gesture, Angela only smiled and shook her head. His English was still not good, but he managed what "Not yet dear" meant. It was all right with him. If nothing else, Pedro was patient.

He would not have a long wait. Identical twins Candi and Brandi Dunworthy rolled in shortly before 4:00. While not exactly Gretchen's star pupils—they were incestuous lesbians on arrival at St Evie's—Gretchen had managed to widen the scope of their endeavors. More specifically, she taught them to include persons other than a sister. The concept of a penis had been completely new to them, as was the concept of a threesome. No one, else, had ever managed a one on one, not that there were any complaints. Suffice to say they learned well, and even managed to introduce Gretchen to some of the joys of switch hitting.

On this particular Sunday, they had had an unsatisfactory day at doubles tennis, losing, and mixed doubles, fighting. Since neither of their mixed doubles partners was deemed suitable, they had come home in quite a funk. They were still arguing about a disputed line call when Brandi spied Patrica, who was getting makeup redone for the umpteenth time.

Patricia looked absolutely stunning. Her past shoulder length hair was brushed out and back, framing her delicately boned face. Her naturally dark skin had just a touch of color, which highlighted a lip shade that would overwhelm 90% of the complexions in the world. With the very dark eyes and raven hair, it was just enough. As Angela turned Patricia to the mirror, to see her handy work, both the twins began to lose baggage and nonessential clothing. When Angela returned Patricia to the television room, Brandi was standing lookout, while Candi circled for the kill.

"Patty Dear, would you like to see something?"

Pedro understood only that a question had been asked, but Candi did not really expect a response. It gave her a chance to pull him from the sofa and lead him to her room. Brandi, wearing only a dressing gown, was at the vanity with half a dozen perfume bottles around.

"Oh there you are. Patricia dear, we thought we would show you a little about fragrances." She stroked a bottle stopper against her wrist. "This is Chanel #5, and this is #19. Can you tell the difference?"

At first Pedro was confused, but he sniffed the wrist as she had, and received his first experience with $100 an ounce perfume. It went to his head. Brandi unstopped another bottle.

"This is called Passion." She dabbed some under her ears. Pedro leaned over to catch a whiff. Brandi looked up and smiled. "Candi dear, what would go well on Patricia?"

"Ambrosia would be nice, but right now I would go with Musk."

"Musk it is. Patricia dear, give me your hand." She took a waiting bottle and dabbed his wrists. He rubbed them together as she had shown him. He found the scent odd. Brandi took the hand and inhaled deeply. "You were right Candi. Musk is a winner."

Holding Pedro's hand, Brandi rose from the vanity and turned to face him. She stroked his jaw line with the glass stopper and rubbed it in with her fingertips. Then she brushed her scented fingers over the tops of her breasts, pulling her sash open as she did. "Come here and let me smell you." Taking him by the shoulders, she nuzzled him along the jaw line up to his earlobe. Pedro, still not aware he was being seduced, put his arms hesitantly around her. The effect shocked him.

Brandi pulled back enough to see his face and gave a radiant smile, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. The kiss lingered. Candi called, "I want some." Brandi pulled him toward the bed. The twins slept together and had the only full size bed in the hotel. Pedro was shocked to see Candi, nude, drawing a scent stopper down her belly to her carrot patch. Whatever else might be said about the girls, they were true redheads. Before Pedro could react, Brandi pushed him on top of her sister, then jumped on the pile.

They unwound in a moment. Pedro found himself looking at two snow white breasts with tiny pink nipples. Scented nipples. He had to admit they smelled enticing. He took a little taste. Candi shivered and squealed. Alarmed for a moment, he saw the encouragement on her face and began to tongue bathe them. He looked down and saw Brandi buried in the bush. She motioned to him. He watched her expertly part the lips to uncover the grotto below. She plunged her tongue in deep and pulled it out and up over the clit. Candi squirmed.

Pedro, now understanding the game, began to work over her belly, breasts and neck. Candi grabbed his head and pulled it to her lips. Her hands in his hair were painful, but it added to his growing excitement. She gave him his first French kiss. Inexperienced or not, Pedro caught on quickly. He did not linger over the new experience, but sucked on Candi's tongue and enjoyed her taste. This was much better than the taste of the perfume. His tongue ran over, and under, her lips, then down her face to her ear. As a child, Pedro had often seen boys kissing girls ears. Just as he began nibbling on her studded lobe, Candi exploded.

It was the first time Pedro had watched an orgasm in progress. He filed the scene away in his memory. Candi's pale skinned, red haired, pink flushed, arched back, writhing orgasm would affect the rest of his life. All other orgasms would be compared to it, and most found wanting. He usually considered this an indictment of his skills. Brandi was an expert, after all, while Pedro was not, yet.

When Candi finally settled down, Pedro kissed her breasts again and she giggled. Things could have gone further, but Brandi had other ideas. Twins shared, and she had not had hers yet. Pedro was now fully up to speed. When Brandi reached over and drew him into a kiss, he responded in kind. Where Candi had been rather passive, Brandi was aggressive and brought her teeth into play. In his state, Pedro was fine with that approach. A little rough it would be.

Moving around the bed, he knelt on the rug and pulled open her robe. Not surprisingly, he found her naked underneath. He had watched her scent the tops of her breasts, so he started there. Nuzzling and nibbling down to the nipples, he nipped each in turn. Then he shifted up to the neck, working finally to an ear. Ears were going to be a thing for him. Pedro could tell it already. Licking and tugging at the lobe, he let his hands go back to the breasts, plucking and tugging. Then his lips returned to the breasts as one hand slid down to the pubic mound. Her back arched, in anticipation, as he pulled on her pubic hair. It was another effect for the memory log. Brandi mewled a protest while he slid down to kneel at the foot of the bed.

She was too far forward, so he grabbed her where thigh met hip and pulled, letting her heels drop onto his back. It was to become a favorite position. Kneeling on the floor, thighs on both sides, heels down the back, so Pedro could dine in peace. Eat he did. First he licked the moisture off the top of the folds and blowing to air dry. Then starting at the bottom he used his hands to pull open the honeypot, which he attacked like a bear in a hive.

Candi was now contributing by sucking Brandi's tongue, so there were only muffled sounds as he found the clit higher up. Cruelly he let it alone for the moment. Instead he turned his head to the thigh on one side and lathered his tongue on it. His hands had nothing to do, so he grabbed the mounds of her ass and squeezed. Her heels bore down on his back as her back arched, which he took as a cue to nip the clit with his teeth. Her reaction threw him sideways onto the floor.

By the time he pulled himself up, Brandi was pointing an accusing finger at him, while Candi was pounding the bed with laughter. He had thought Candi flushed. He was wrong. Brandi was inventing shades of red as she fought for breath. He was becoming concerned when Candi crawled off the bed and kissed him. "Bueno. Muy bueno." This was music to his ears. She kissed him again and put the bottle of musk in his hand, "Por vou", which was the wrong language, but he got the point.