2 comments/ 6384 views/ 3 favorites A Charity Case By: pocketrocket Author's note: This is an update of a story published here many years ago. For fans of How [K]itten Met [T]eddybear, this is the story of Pedro de la Garza, whom Sheila meets in Brooklyn. There is extensive cross dressing, but not for erotic reasons. Prologue Los Angeles: 2001 Two attractive, and mostly naked, college freshmen were having a blast. They were on a drop cloth in an old high school gym. Paint was everywhere. It was on the drop cloth, on the ladders, but mostly on the girls. Angie had tubes of art paint in each hand. Gretchen had just given up her brush and had grabbed the whole bucket of house paint. Before the inevitable happened... "Cut. Girls this isn't supposed to be about paint fights. This is supposed to be about sex. And don't make such a big mess to clean up." The cameras pan across the room, to the top of the bleachers. They settle on a young Hispanic man, who is hiding in the seats, near the rafters. His eyes are huge as he stares at the scene below him. "Cut. Cut and wrap. Beautiful transition John. Call it a day girls, we go to work at the hotel tomorrow." It had all gone differently almost 40 years earlier. Chapter 1: Paint and Water Brooklyn: 1962 Two attractive, and mostly naked, college juniors were having a blast. They were on a drop cloth in an old high school gym. Paint was everywhere. It was on the drop cloth, on the ladders, but mostly on the girls. Angie had tubes of art paint in each hand. Gretchen had just given up her brush and had grabbed the whole bucket of house paint. Before the inevitable happened... "Cut. Cut! Cut! Girls, this isn't supposed to be about bloody paint fights. This is supposed to be about bleeding sex. And don't make such a bloody big mess to clean up." Nigil was in full rant mode. Gretchen had woken up that way. "Well, fuck you asshole. If you can't make life into art, then maybe you're not such a big shot artist. Huh? If your brain was half as big as you think your prick is, you'd..." Gretchen would be going for some time. Pedro did not want to hear the rest. He had heard it all day, already. He could not believe the coarseness of the language, much less from such chica linda, pretty girls. Why were they doing this? What did they say during confession? What would he say to his priest? Pedro Miguel Rodriguez Santos de la Garza was born in Puerto Rico. He had run to New York to get away from the bullies and the bribery on the sugar plantations. It never occurred to him that there would be bullies in Estados Unitas as well, not to mention higher prices and prejudices against Puerto Ricans. An unrepentant romantic, Pedro had seen West Side Story 12 times. He even paid once. He loved the music and pined for Maria, but he had no illusions that it was real. Pedro had seen the West Side and run from it. Part of Pedro's problem was his size: 5'6" and slightly built. At 18, almost 19, but could pass for 15 if need be. He shaved only once a week. He had classic Latin features and hair that women would kill or die for. The looks only added to his problems. Girls noticed and bigger boys noticed where the girls looked. That meant pretty much all the other boys were against him. Everyone was bigger and stronger. They resented that he was smarter and better looking. Life had already chased Pedro off two islands—off Puerto Rico as a stowaway at 13, then off Manhattan at 17—eventually to an abandoned school in Brooklyn. There was a place in the cellar where he made a lumpy bed of old rags wrapped in a sailcloth. He found a day job washing dishes, for 10 cents an hour and a meal. He could survive the winter cold and was sheltered from the worst of the summer heat. In half a year, Pedro had saved $10 and felt like a rich man. Then, a British wannabe porn mogul, named Nigil Owens, found Pedro's school. For Nigil, it was a perfect set up. A little bribery arranged for power and water hookups. Bigger bribes arranged for the police to look the other way, or at least pretend they were looking at something else. In short order, cameras and naked girls were the order of the day. Playboy had created a sensation. Demand for similar, but harder core, pictures had picked up dramatically. This lasted for three months. Then, Nigil brought in a cut rate movie crew. His desire to do porn movies ran up against a hard fact. The hookers and runaways, which had served as fodder for still photos, lacked even the minimal acting skills necessary for porn movies. So, he went looking for girls that could speak well, but were willing to get naked. Enter Gretchen Schneider. Daughter of an Albany attorney and a former Manhattan debutante, Gretchen had been expelled from three schools before she was 15. Changing morals—not hers, the school's—allowed Gretchen to finally graduate high school, in spite of three significant incidents. After graduation, she was shipped to her grandmother in the city, who immediately installed Gretchen in a girls only hotel with a strict reputation. More on that presently. Gretchen found city life challenging. She was enrolled in one of the lesser design schools and found that she had an aptitude, though not a work ethic. Her grades improved to steady Cs, with an occasional B, much to her family's delight. Unofficially, she majored in boys, which was challenging largely because of the lack of straight males in her school. Among other things, Gretchen became a world class sucker of cock, just to keep up with the male competition. When Gretchen tired of trying to separate the gay from the bisexual, she would go clubbing in the Village. That is where she encountered Nigil. He was hunky, cockney and there were six girls surrounding him. Gretchen was in the mood for a different sort of challenge. To her vast disappointment, Nigil took her to his hotel, let her suck him to orgasm, then propositioned her for a movie deal. She agreed, on the condition that Nigil bring her off three times. Then Gretchen had to fake the last orgasm. Given some time to think about it, a porn movie suited her fancy. The other member of the tableau was Angela Molinari, aka Angie. She was pure Central Park West, and very much out of her depth. Though she and Gretchen were the same year in college, Angela was almost two years younger and vastly less experienced. Gretchen had gotten Angie involved in several previous unwise excursions, but had also managed to get Angie back out. Knowing Gretchen, Angie assumed they would be shooting in skimpy swim suits, possibly topless. A fight with her society conscious mother had left her feeling rebellious. So, when Gretchen promised a good time, Angela allowed herself to be led. When they reached the run down school, Angie almost bolted on the spot. Gretchen's fast talking and a lack of cab fare conspired against her. Once the nature of the shoot was explained, Angie literally bolted. Once again, Gretchen talked her back in. This was followed by some lengthy negotiations between Nigil and Gretchen. Girls covering each other with paint was not Nigil's idea of hard core action, but he recognized the market potential. Had he ever used the footage, he might have been justified. Once the shooting started, his biggest problem was not Angela's shyness. That was appealing. Rather, Gretchen thought she knew more about film making than the crew. The fact that she knew quite a lot about lighting gave her some credibility. Gretchen's authoritarian personality did the rest, sort of. The day became an enduring contest of wills. Several hours and many takes later, the two girls started the scene. Both girls were dressed in skimpy bikinis. Angie, with an overacted show of clumsiness, splashed green paint on Gretchen's red top. Gretchen launched into a tirade, removing the top and shoving it Angel's face. From that point, things flowed easily. Gretchen grabbed a wide brush of house paint and flipped it at Angela. Since most of the spray caught her in the face, Angie did not have to act shocked. In retaliation, she grabbed a bowl of turpentine and doused Gretchen's whole front. This was not in the script. Gretchen froze, staring at her dripping tits, while Angela started to giggle. In retaliation, Gretchen loaded the brush and swatted a retreating Angela in the ass. Coincidentally, two cans of paint were knocked over, dousing both of the girl's legs.This time Angie froze, allowing Gretchen to paint a thick swath across her torso. Angela grabbed tubes of paint. Gretchen grabbed a bucket. Nigil stuck his foot in the middle and yelled, "Cut!" Gretchen was right about one thing. Nigil had no sense of timing. Instead of an excellent cat fight on film, Nigil had a heated argument off camera. Naturally, no one knew they were being watched. Pedro was as far away as he could get and still see clearly. Nigil's invasion had been a mixed curse. Among other things, Pedro had heat and running water. There was also electricity, but Pedro did not dare to use it. Instead, he was able to watch, occasionally, as girls took off their clothes. This was very disturbing. To say Pedro was a virgin would be an understatement. He had never kissed a girl over the age of 10, save his aunts and mother. He had had no idea how girls are different than boys til Nigil's naked scenery had opened a new world to him. While he had grave misgivings about his own actions, Pedro was not about to leave. Then came the day of the movie cameras. Movies were Pedro's favorite Anglo thing, even more than bratwurst. He had seen West Side Story twelve times, even paying once. He was very excited to see what sort of movie they were going to make. Nigil's failures quickly disillusioned him, but he stayed anyway. The day of the paint scene was a day at the restaurant. Pedro was able to watch the entire day. While moments were exhilarating, most of what he saw was Gretchen: Gretchen arguing with Nigil, Gretchen re-directing the cameras, Gretchen upstaging Angela, Gretchen taking off her top. Pedro had no objection to seeing Gretchen topless. While she was not a beauty, Gretchen was attractive and well endowed. However, Angie was beautiful, and just to Pedro's taste. Where Gretchen was dirty blond and blue eyed, Angela had wavy brown hair and liquid brown eyes. Gretchen was 5'6", 38-26-38, D cup. Angela was 5'8", 32-20-30 and, until recently, a B cup. When they were together, Gretchen usually pulled most of the attention. Pedro had eyes only for Angela. Though he did not yet know it, his eye was drawn to her delicate bone structure and the rich red undertones of her coloring. At 17, long before Pedro ever saw her, Angela was a boney horse of a girl. At 20, her stick thin figure was starting to fill in and the dirty brown of her hair was deepening into a dark sorrel red. By 25 Angela Molinari would be a famous beauty. Pedro was the first to appreciate it, a fact which Angela never forgot. That would be the future. The present was a shouting match between Gretchen and Nigil. Pedro slipped behind the stands and slipped out of the room. His mind was full of his angel, which was how he thought of Angela. The irony of her name would be felt shortly. For that moment he drifted down the hallway. Suddenly, Pedro realized that he was boxed in. The fight was coming down the corridor toward him and there was no more corridor to run to. He tried doors until one opened. He ducked inside. This proved to be a bad move. The door was unlocked because it was the locker room, which served as the dressing room. The door from the gym had a broken lock, but the one from the hall had been picked. Had he been thinking, Pedro would have known that his was exactly where everyone would come. Time had run out and there was no where left to go. Pedro crouched at the end of a bench and hoped for the best. It was all moot. In their mood, flashing lights would not have made any difference to Nigil and Gretchen. They stopped right in front of Pedro. Rather than turn the corner, Gretchen stopped to scream at Nigil. Angie was crying. Nigil swung a slap at Gretchen, which she ducked and counter punched him in the midriff. Pedro had lost enough fights to appreciate the move. Nigil, really angry now, was loading a heavy fist when Pedro, to his own total surprise, hit him shoulder to kidneys. The fight got serious for a few seconds. It ended as it always ended. Nigil was standing, rubbing a split lip with the back of his hand, while Pedro lay with his back against a row of lockers, blood running out the back of his head. For a moment Nigil considered a kick to Pedro's face. Instead, he decided to laugh it off. "There's your bleedin' 'ero, girls. Let him get you 'ome." At which he turned on heel and left, while Gretchen shouted obscenities after him. Angie picked Pedro's head up and cradled it under her breasts. Pedro looked up at her and said, "Angela. Angelina mia." Then he passed out. "Gretchen. Gretchen, he's hurt. Help me." Gretchen knelt beside them, annoyed to have no one to fight. She said, "This cut doesn't look too bad. His hair saved him when he hit the locker. We need to wash it out though. Help me get him in the shower. He needs it anyway." They dragged him the few feet to the shower, and threw water on his face. When he was awake enough to stand, Gretchen shoved him under the hot water. Angie objected. "Gretchen, his clothes are getting soaked." "So. They need a washing anyway. Smell that. Let's get them off." Not waiting for aid, Gretchen started pulling Pedro's shirt from his pants. Soon she was pulling at the rope which held up his pants. Pedro made a halfhearted protest when the girls pulled off his shirt. He often worked shirtless during the summer. When Gretchen started tugging at his rope belt, he struggled. Then he looked up. Pedro's angel smiled at him. That was enough. Gretchen stooped to push down the oversized work pants, so she got a front row view when his prick came into view. Pedro was small. Pedrito could stand with anyone in the family. One look an an unfamiliar cock and Gretchen was hooked. All the fun, games and fighting of the last hour became foreplay. She dropped Pedro's sopping pants to the floor and reached for a bar of soap. Gretchen loved giving head, but not to an unwashed, uncircumcised cock. She put expert hands to the job. Pedro knew he was hurt, that he had been hit in the head. He did not care. The water felt wonderful, his Angela had smiled at him. On top of it all, Pedrito had never felt like this under his blanket. He smiled, closed his eyes and let it come. Angie became alarmed. "Gretchen, what are you doing?" "I'm washing his cock. What does it look like I'm doing." She was actually washing his whole groin area, his thighs, and up the crack of his ass. "I am not going to suck a dirty cock and he's dirty, period." Angie could not dispute that Pedro was filthy and that he stank. To Pedro, access to hot water meant that he could bathe once a week, not once a month. Also, as often as she had heard Gretchen describe fellatio, Angie had never witnessed it. Instead, Angie started more water, peeled off the bathing suit and started to wash herself. Gretchen finished with Pedro's groin. She moved him back under the water, both to wet his hair and to wash the suds off. Then Gretchen pushed him further back, so that she was in the water while she played his flute. Angie lathered herself, while she watched Gretchen work. It was exactly the kind of scene that Nigil wanted to film. The only recording was Angela Molinari's gifted memory. Gretchen went round and round Pedrito's head. Then she shifted position and licked up the throat of the cock, to the scrotal sack. Pedro blissfully floated on the sensation. While tickling the balls with her pointed nails, Gretchen worked her way back to the head. Her other hand pushed aside the swimsuit and plunged into her running cunt. Keeping everything light, Gretchen prolonged the moment. This was when she felt most powerful. Even the most confirmed of her gay classmates had to acknowledge Gretchen's instinct for the moment. Not only had she never failed to bring a climax, she had never left any of them half satisfied. It was all in the timing. Gretchen got off on the power, and she got herself off as well. Behind her, so was Angie. When Gretchen had lathered Pedro's pubic hair, Angie had slipped out of her swimsuit. When Gretchen washed Pedro's balls and ass, Angie washed the drying paint off her arms and legs. When Gretchen pushed Pedro under the flow of water, Angie washed her breasts and belly. When Gretchen pushed Pedro back and began her fellatio, Angie dropped her washcloth and used both hands on herself. She almost went too fast, but Angie also had a fine sense of timing. Still, such things cannot last. Both Gretchen and Angie had been well warmed by their fight. Pedro had an entire day of occasional titillation followed by frustration. They were all primed to come and they did. Feeling her own excitement start to peak, Gretchen quickened her pace with Pedrito. For his part, Pedro's floating began to resolve into an embarrassing situation. Blood pumped and so did his cock. Pedro shot his load into Gretchen's mouth, followed closely by Gretchen's own orgasm. Watching Pedro and Gretchen climax was all Angie needed. Naturally, Gretchen ruined the moment. "You sure taste different than American boys." "Gretchen! What a thing to say." Angie should not have been shocked, but even for Gretchen that was crude. For her part, Gretchen was only speaking what she thought. "It's true. His cum tastes different." Gretchen shrugged, while Angie blushed all over. Pedro was unsure exactly what they were saying. Five years in New York had given him some English, but mostly he still thought in gutter Spanish. However, he could tell they were talking about him. This was when Pedro finally noticed he was naked and alone with two naked women. Pedro had never seen his sister naked, much less this close. His hands went to cover himself. "Look Angie. He's embarrassed. That is so cute." "Gretchen, leave him alone. I think he is cute." "Well, yes, he's cute. I'd like to take him home." "Oh Gretchen, be serious. They don't allow men anywhere near our hotel. That's why our mothers sent us there." "I am serious now that I think about it. He can't stay here. Nigil is sure to send someone back to make sure he's gone. Besides that, I bet we can get him in. He's no taller than I am and he's got fine features. And look at that hair. I'd kill for that hair. Let's get him washed. Between the two of us, we can get him dressed." So it began. The girls gave Pedro a thorough cleaning, including washing the hair twice and using a conditioner. It was necessary to get all the snarls out. Pedro was still in a bit of a daze, but he was willing to do what his angel wished. Once they were all washed and shampooed, Angie checked the bump on Pedro's head. It was large, but the split had stopped bleeding. It was all they could do for the moment. Then, they wrapped him in a towel and took him to their things. Angela contributed garters, stockings and a comb. Gretchen gave up a bra and dress. Given her lifestyle, Gretchen found it useful to always kept a spare outfit stashed somewhere handy. Neither girl had shoes that fit, but they could just get Gretchen's flats onto Pedro's feet. This made Gretchen grumble about wearing heels all the way up town. After the dress came the makeup, which was more troublesome. In Pedro's village, only whores wore makeup. In fact the whole idea of a dress was starting to bother him. Angie took Pedro's face in her hands and said, "Para mi?" "Ah. Si. Para angela mia. Si." Angie dimpled. 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. A Charity Case "Come here Dear. Lets fix you up." She led him to the dressing chair, pulled up the skirt, pulled out the equipment, and popped the top. As blow jobs go, it was not much. Candi was not the flute player Gretchen was, and Pedro was so wired it took only seconds. Still, Pedro needed the relief and Candi petted him and spoke sweetly. Then, Pedro slipped into Patricia and it was girl stuff, as the twins helped fix her makeup. A few minutes later, Miss Walker came by on rounds. All she saw were two tousled girls in robes, helping another with her makeup. Miss Walker said, "You girls look wrung out." Candi: "Yes Miss Walker. We've been playing mixed pairs." Brandi: "We won both sets, even though the last one got a little rough." Candi: "We were about to bathe, but Patty here needed a little help with her face." Brandi: "She somehow got it all smeared." Miss Walker thought it was sweet. "Well it's nice of you girls to take an interest. She certainly looks sexy made up like that." Both: "Oh yes, Miss Walker. That was what we wanted; sexy." When she had gone, both girls dissolved in giggles. Pedro did not know what to make of Miss Walker. On one hand she was clearly an authority figure and to be treated carefully. On the other hand she seemed to protect the girls, which he certainly agreed to. More than that, in her severe way, Miss Walker was nice to him, and seemed to think well of him, her. That part was confusing. Pedro decided that he would be very careful. The rest of the day went memorably. Sunday dinner was always an occasion at the Hotel. The staff set out the good dishes and prepared a fine meal. To Pedro it was like a dream Christmas feast. He ate sparingly, partly because he did not want to seem inhospitable, but mostly because he had no time. The other Fifth Floor girls wanted to show him off. In later years that first dinner would represent all that was good and right with the world: plenty of food, plenty of cheer, and plenty of beautiful young women. It did not hurt to be was the center of attention. Gretchen was absent—she rarely made meals at the hotel—but fully half the hotel turned out for the big meal, and six of the eight on Fifth Floor. It is an old saying that two people can keep a secret, provided one of them is dead. It is therefore totally surprising that Pedro's secret stayed just that, secret. There were countless conversations about Patricia's dress, a classic pinafore, donated by the soon to depart Francine. Brandi and Candi explained the perfume and makeup, with a nod to Angela. Everyone went on about how Patricia could wear impossible colors. In the end, the conversation never turned to illicit matters. When dinner was over, the girls began to go separate ways. There remained a cluster of girls that would hover around anything new. Patricia was the first new thing in a while. It was not just because she looked so good in a simple dress, but because she was so mysterious. Who was this brutal boyfriend? Where exactly did she come from? Did she really have no family? This last was particularly delicious, since a large part of the pecking order was based on Who's Who, so having no father was something akin to having no clothes. Pedro was saved in large part by the fact that rural spoken Spanish and Prep School Spanish are only slightly related. While it is undeniable that he learned much better English than he ever learned Spanish, that was still in the future. Instead, it was a time of smiling and nodding—another thing that would serve him well in later life. When it was finally done, there were only three girls left. Angela, Deirdre, and Francine, all from the Fifth. Francine only remained to obtain a promise that Patricia would attend her wedding. Pedro was glad to oblige. Though he did not know it yet, Pedro would inherit her room. Chapter 4: Beginnings Deirdre was another matter. As a Fifth Floor girl, she was in the know. Also, of all the girls in the hotel, she was the best linguist. Her father was German, her mother French, her governess Dutch and her nanny Italian. There had also been a Mexican gardener, but rumors about him were spoken in hushed tones. Suffice to say that Deirdre spoke four languages fluently and six or seven more somewhat. Rural Spanish counting as a "somewhat." Moreover, she had gotten the twin's version of the afternoon events, and she wanted some for herself. Deirdre walked the wild side and was known for getting what she wanted over any objection. Angela was inclined to offer the objections, but she was operating at a handicap. So, Deirdre and Angela dragged Patricia out of the dining hall, still arguing over what was best to do next. In the end, what decided matters was that Deirdre had a car. It was almost nine PM before the three of them made it out of the hotel. It was almost 11 PM before they got back. The time was spent planning and assembling a charade. Pedro was, in fact, male. As such he could not get past the front desk. However, Patricia could come and go as she pleased, although going after 8 and coming after 10, required a good reason. That night, the cause was Patricia's poor cousin Pedro. For reality's sake, Angela insisted on going back to the old school, to get Pedro's his old clothes. For Pedro, it was a trip into the bowels of hell. He resolved to do whatever it took to avoid ever returning. Then it was back to the hotel, to show Pedro to Miss Walker. This went well. The "family resemblance" was obvious, but Patricia was a tall girl and Pedro was a short man. Patricia, they explained, was with the rest of the family, who were soon leaving for Ohio. Everyone was overjoyed that Patricia was in a stable place and Pedro would be nearby, to keep an eye on her. Miss Walker was favorably impressed that another of her problem girls was acting as translator. Under the circumstances, Miss Walker was willing to let slip that Patricia could stay in Francine's room indefinitely. Angela, Deirdre and Patricia went out once more, supposedly to give the news to Patricia's family. Instead they found an open restaurant and argued strategy. When the three conspirators finally retired for the night with the firm plan—Monday Pedro would make his formal appearance. Much discussion remained as to the details, but that central fact was established. After that, it was a quiet night for Pedro. He lay down on the floor and never woke when Gretchen, well fucked by her date, came in much later. Pedro was used to hard floors and slept like a rock. Monday was new in many ways. With her new style and Angela's connections, Patricia could get job interviews at places that would not even admit Pedro. By noon, Patricia had a part time job, dealing with Spanish language matters at a major Manhattan bank. Her starting salary was more per day, part time, than Pedro had made in a week washing dishes. The bank would even tutor her in English. Angela took Patricia to Tavern on the Green to celebrate. In a week full of memorable moments, this was the crowning event. In later years, no achievement was complete til TotG had hosted the celebration. Back at the hotel, Deirdre met them with "The Plan." Angela would take Patricia out after dinner. Deirdre would meet them at a prearranged place, take Pedro back to the hotel, suitably attired, and then return. Angela would help him change back and the two would be home by 10, or so. Deirdre had already acquired a set of men's clothing, clean but ragged, for him to change into. Pedro's old clothes were too disgusting for what she had in mind. Pedro did not like the idea of abandoning Angela, although a Public Library is a fairly safe place. He liked it even less when Deirdre drove him, not to the hotel, but to a seedy apartment building on the west side. This was to be Pedro's home. Pedro as distinct from Patricia. The apartment was not as bad as he had imagined. Deirdre, Gretchen and two other girls had acquired the place months earlier. They split the rent, so that they had a safe place to take a date. It was somewhat feminine, although bland, and had a sound system and a bar. In the back, it was different. This was Deidre's toy room and she liked to be spanked. Deirdre led Patricia toward the room, dropping clothes as she went. Patricia was taken aback, by the array of leather bondage equipment. However, she had had practice reacting to wanton sexual displays. Deirdre's play room was no worse than many of those. In this scene, Patricia was to be the stern Mistress to Deirdre. She picked up the tool Pedro had hated most when he learned his letters from the nuns: a wooden ruler. Whack. Patricia popped the ruler on her palm. "Senorita is mala, bad. Is she siento, sorry?" "Oh yes, Senor, I am very sorry. I won't ever do it again." "There. Kneel. Your, como se diese, bottom." Deirdre knelt on the floor by her rack—it was not really a bed—and leaned over. She had already removed her panties and pulled up her skirt. When she knelt, Deirdre's bare ass came jutting out. Patricia walked around to the other side and grasped both hands and pulled. This drew Deirdre into a difficult position. Her arms were extended, so her weight could not rest on hands or elbows. Deirdre's face was flat on the board and her breasts were mashed against it, while her ass was still elevated. She was forced to balance only with her knees, which were close together. It was unsteady and very uncomfortable. Pedro, using his own voice, commanded, "Stay. Un minuto. Voy al bano." Deirdre wondered what Patricia could be doing in the bathroom. As time stretched, Deirdre fidgeted in her awkward pose. Just as she reached the point of ending the game and rising, the door opened behind her. Through it stepped, not Patricia, but Senor Pedro. Tap. Tap. Tap. went the ruler on his palm. Pedro had smelled fish and read Deirdre well. She could be be dominant among women, but not to a man. Pedro was not a large or powerful man, he was the genuine article and he intended to show it. Though he had not realized it before, Pedro was much experienced with the arts of intimidation. Slowly he traced her buttocks with the point of the ruler's corner. Down the cleft of her ass, to the milky white thighs. With one hand, he grabbed a half moon and squeezed, like a lady testing a melon. Deirdre gasped at the sensation. The hand shifted, moving the thumb down in to the crevice. Pedro had already learned what hid there. Deirdre moaned and squirmed, trying to get a fuller feel. Tap. Tap. "Silencio." Pedro roughly kicked her knees apart. This put the bulk of her weight flat on her torso, which Deirdre felt as relief, but it also exposed her most sensitive areas. Before she could muster the nerve to object... Whack. Perfectly placed, diagonal across the cheek to the inner thigh. Deirdre screamed. Whack. No mistaking this one: half ass, half cunt. Deirdre lost her voice in the electric explosion of pain. As she gasped for breath, she felt a knee in the small of her back. "Esta usted siento? Verdad?" (Are you sorry? Truly?) "Si. Si. Senor. Estoy muy siento. Siento verdad." (Yes. Yes. I am very sorry. Truly sorry.) "Bien, nina mia. Su tristeza esta muy bien, para su, como es, punishment? Si punishment." "Uno. Dos. Tres. No Senorita, you must speak. We begin again. Uno." This time Deirdre, already sobbing, echoed the count. Pedro continued, "Bien. Dos. Tres. Quatro. Cinco. Seis. Siete. Ocho. Nueve." Pedro held each blow til Deirdre call it out. "Diaz." He finished with a resounding Whack. Then, as Deirdre lay whimpering, he rolled her over and dropped to his knees between her legs. As he licked her sodden cunt, he noticed the trimmed pubic hair. That gave him another idea. At first, Deirdre was too far gone to notice Pedro's tongue, but he soon had her bouncing on the wooden bed. While he lacked experience with the physical aspects, Pedro had a lifetime of reading attitudes. Simple attention was more important than technique. For Pedro, it was an important lesson in foreplay, one of many already. In mere minutes, between the submissive posture, the rough handling, the sharp spanking and the unexpected cunnilingus, Pedro reduced Deirdre to wreckage. Then he picked her up and brought her into his care—not to mention screaming ecstasy. In the afterglow, Pedro ran his fingertips along Deirdre's trimmed bush. As Deirdre began to take notice, Pedro pulled on her pubic hair. Shaving pussy hair would not be common for a generation, but it was nothing new. Deirdre smiled widely, as she saw the opportunity. "Do you want to shave me? Now?" Pedro answered, "Si. Pero manana, vamos al Biblioteque." (Yes But tomorrow, we are going to the Library.) The episode did wonders for Pedro's confidence. For the first time, Pedro had been allowed to follow what his mind had seen. Deirdre was a confident and clever young woman, yet she had bowed to him in submission. It was heady stuff. It also provided Pedro with a variety of new avenues to explore. For the moment, the thrill of vindication was intense. Pedro would never know it, but the expression on his face would have intimidated the foreman from the sugar plantation in Puerto Rico. Almost as a side effect, he had made a devoted follower. Through the years, Deirdre stayed at his side. Sessions like the first one were rare. Pedro believed in having reasons for punishment, while Deirdre's appetites made him a little uneasy. In this case, Deirdre had an underhanded ulterior motive, but she had truly repented of it. Acting at punishment gave spice to her sex life, but the real thing scared the shit out of her. It was a thought she pondered at length. Occasionally Pedro would whip her for his own reasons, or as a gift, but never as a regular event. Deirdre would never again give him cause for true punishment. For the rest of the day, everyone said Deirdre looked radiant. She would only smile at the comment. Instead, Deirdre went to confession the next day, for the first time since moving to the hotel. She went regularly thereafter. By the time Deirdre and Pedro finally arrived to pick her up, Angela had worried herself into a frenzy. She had not been pleased with the plan, but Deirdre and Gretchen could always talk her into doing anything. That did not keep her from fretting about "her" Pedro. Angela's mouth opened to scold them, but one look at Deirdre's face silenced her. Pedro's smile melted her heart. They went about their plan with not a word spoken. Deirdre glowed, but Angela had eyes only for Pedro. Her lasting impression, of the whole evening, was how much taller Pedro was than Patricia. Clothes aside, she could not believe Pedro's transformation. His episode with Deirdre had turned a decade of abuse into a world of experience. Pedro had a new conviction—he had been right all along. The bullies tried to silence him because he was right. Miss Walker was also taken back. She was easily convinced that the badly dressed boy was Patricia's cousin. She saw a strong family resemblance, and she would never mistake the tall, shy, dainty Patricia for the confident young man in front of her. What took Miss Walker completely out of stride was his effect on Deirdre. Normally defiant, to the point of pugilistic, Deirdre stood by politely, to one side and a little back. To Miss Walker's practiced eye, it was obvious that this was one man that Deirdre would never walk on. Miss Walker also found the arrangements suitable. Pedro would live elsewhere. On occasion, he might call on Deirdre, or one of the girls, in addition to his cousin. Miss Walker took note that he did not Lord over Deirdre, in spite of her submissive posture, but employed her freely as a translator. Miss Walker was impressed with the young man. She made notes for future reference and quietly put him on the approved list. Later, more phone calls went out. Up in the living area, the change in Deirdre caused a quiet ripple of shock. Many girls did not immediately notice, but the edgy bitch was replaced by a serene woman. This is not to say that there were no incidents. Deirdre was still dangerous. Two of the girls, from Third Floor, tested Deirdre's new mettle. Once. That was sufficient for the rest of the house. Miss Walker only smiled, privately. During her wartime tour of France, Miss Walker had seen hundreds of boys turn into men. She knew mature confidence when she saw it. It was turning into an interesting spring. Chapter 5: Work Sunday became Monday. Monday passed into Tuesday, then Wednesday and so on. Things started to settle into a routine. Pedro was an early riser. So, Patricia would be up and dressed well before the other girls were about. As they came blinking into the morning, Patricia would greet each by name, and converse as much as his English skills allowed. At first, this was something of a necessity coupled with Pedro's innate good manners. Over time it served to cement him, as Patricia, to be good listener. Later it would serve him well in business. Business was something else Pedro was learning. Patricia's part time job flourished. Given simple repetitive tasks, she performed well. The repetitive tasks soon gave way to ones requiring judgment. At the end of the second week, Patricia spotted a serious error. Things were corrected and the matter passed, but people had noticed and Patricia became someone to watch. Soon, she was promoted to the important Overseas Office. Though still, technically, an entry level, Patrica had arrived. Her hours expanded to full time, then beyond. Patricia's supervisor, recognizing a barrio accent when he heard one, started her primarily in written material. In an odd inversion, she read slowly, not because legalese was difficult, but because her reading skills were still developing. Patricia acquired a reputation for considering issues before speaking. As her command of English improved, she was given increasing responsibilities with Americans planning to travel. Here, the daily practice of repeating names to commit them to memory bore fruit. Patricia's quiet, careful manner was exactly what clients wanted in a bank. Again her status rose. Patricia became the clerk of choice for the Spanish language section. Over the course of a year, Patricia achieved a first name basis with some of the richest and most powerful people in New York. Patricia also acquired a reputation as a difficult conquest. Pedro was unaware of the status. Naturally heterosexual, Pedro became annoyed when his feminine alter ego began to attract male attention, even some overt sexual overtures. Like many things, Pedro approached the situation as something to learn. He acquired the skill of returning gifts, discretely. Patricia's reputation did not suffer. Back at the hotel, Patricia was treated as one of the girls. After the first week, Deirdre became her shadow, which impressed no end of people. In the political structure of Saint Evie's, Deirdre had been something of a power. Most of Deirdre's influence transferred to Patricia, as the conquest became acknowledged. Gretchen still treated Pedro as personal property and, from time to time, demanded service. Pedro accepted this as a cost of doing business. Encounters of a more serious nature, like the one with the twins, were infrequent. True, the three of them had gotten together on occasion, but little more than that. Pedro was not really their brand of lipstick, while he found them rather vain. Pedro stayed close to Angela, hugging her daily and kissing her occasionally, but little else. This was her choice. Francine married and moved out, vacating a room. Pedro moved in. This was an opportunity to throw a housewarming shower, this time for all the girls in the hotel. It was held after Sunday dinner, with Miss Walker's prior knowledge and approval. Gifts were generally of a personal nature, decorations and such. Deirdre gave Pedro an authentic bull fighter's cape. Angela presented him with a Rolex, suitable for either sex. A Charity Case Thereafter, Patricia was officially in residence. She was considerate and well liked by all of the girls, and soon developed a reputation as a great shoulder to cry on. Patricia was thought wise. Her understanding of boys was considered amazing, especially from such a shy girl. In fact, most of the girls did not think of Patricia, or Pedro, in any sexual way. This kept most encounters to light, friendly and oral. That would change.