Jumping Bean Productions

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 them. 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 camera pans across to a young Hispanic man, 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 40 years earlier in 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 them. 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. CUUUTTT!!!! 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."

"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…" Pedro did not want to hear the rest. He had been hearing it all day already. He could not believe the coarseness of the language 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 had come to New York from Puerto Rico to get away from the bullies and the bribery of the sugar plantations. It had never occurred to him that there were bullies in America as well, not to mention higher prices and prejudices against Puerto Ricans. He had seen West Side Story 12 times, even paying once. He loved Maria and the music, 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. His classic Latin features and hair that women would kill or die for had only added to the problem. Everyone was bigger, stronger, more capable, and resented that he was smarter and better looking. Life had already chased him off two islands to an abandoned school gym in Brooklyn and a day job washing dishes for 15 cents an hour and a meal. He had saved $10 and felt like a rich man.

Then a British wannabe named Niles had brought a porn film crew into his home and upset the life he had managed to scrape together. Pedro wanted to leave, but he was fascinated by all the fuss. Movies were his favorite American thing after bratwurst. Besides, he suddenly had runing water.

To say he 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 Niles' naked scenery had opened a new world to him. He did not know where to go next, but he knew he would follow wherever the girls went, for as long as they were near.

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. Bad move. It was the locker room. The door from the gym had a broken lock, but this one opened. Had he been thinking, he would have known that they would come straight toward him. There was no where left to go, so Pedro crouched at the end on a bench and hoped for the best. It was all moot. Flashing lights would not have made a difference.

Niles and the two girls stopped right in front of him, while the blonde girl, Gretchen, screamed at Niles. Angie, the dark haired girl, was crying. Niles swung a slap at Gretchen, which she ducked and counter punched him in the midriff. Pedro had lost enough fights to appreciate the move. Niles, 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. Niles was standing, rubbing a split lip with the back of his hand, while Pedro lay with his back against a row of lockers and blood running out the back of his head. For a moment Niles looked ready to kick Pedro in the face, but decided to laugh it off.

"There's your hero, girls. Let him get you home." At which he turned on heel and left.

Gretchen shouted obscenities after him while 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."

"This cut doesn't look to 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.

"Gretchen, he's getting soaked."

"So. They need a washing anyway. Smell that. Let's get them off."

Pedro made a halfhearted protest when they pulled off the shirt. But Angela smiled at him and that was enough. Gretchen stooped to pull 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. Gretchen took one look and all the fun, games and fighting of the last hour became foreplay. She dropped his sopping pants to the floor and reached for a bar of soap. She loved to lick cock, but not unwashed, uncircumcised cock. She put expert hands to the job.

Pedro knew he had been hurt, that he had been hit in the head. But the water felt wonderful, his Angela had smiled at him, and Pedrito had never felt like this under his blanket. He smiled, closed his eyes and let it come.

"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 and fuck a dirty cock and he's dirty, period."

She turned him around to wash the suds off, then moved him back so she could play his flute while the water ran down her back. Angela lathered herself up while she watched Gretchen work.

Round and round the swollen purple head went Gretchen, while Angela washed the drying paint off her arms. Down the front of the shaft Gretchen went to the scrotal sack, while Angela washed off her legs. Gretchen tickled Pedro's balls and nibbled the throat of his prick, while Angela washed her breasts and belly. Growing more excited, Gretchen started pumping Pedrito with her lips, while her hands found her waiting slit. Angela had lathered her Venus Mons, but abandoned the soap for more direct methods. Pedro's head had been swimming, but the rush of blood both waked him and knocked him in a completely new direction. Angela came seconds before Pedro spurted his relief into Gratchen's mouth. Naturally Gretchen had to spoil the moment.

"You sure taste different than American boys."

"Gretchen! What a thing to say."

"It's true. His cum tastes different."

Pedro was unsure exactly what they were saying, but he could tell they were talking about him. He 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 Angela. He's embarrassed. That is so cute."

"Gretchen, leave him alone. I think he is cute."

"Well yes he is 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. Niles is sure to send someone back to make sure he's gone. Besides 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. Angela contributed garters, stockings and a comb for the hair. Gretchen gave up a bra and dress. Gretchen always kept a spare outfit stashed somewhere handy. Neither had shoes that fit, but they could just get Gretchen's flats on, which made Gretchen grumble about wearing heels all the way up town. The make up was more troublesome since Pedro did not want any. In his village only whores wore makeup. In fact the whole idea of a dress was starting to bother him. Angela took his face in her hands and said, "Para mio?"

"Ah. Si. Para Angela mia. Si."

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

"It 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."

"Well now you are Patricia. Can you say Patricia?"

"Patricia?"

"Good. Now Patricia, do you have any money for cab fare? Dinero?"

When they arrived at the "Saint Evangelina Missionary Hotel for Women", better known as "Saint Evie's", Angela was worried about the forbidding desk matron, Miss Walker. Gretchen just marched Pedro right up to the desk.

"Miss Walker. This is Patricia de la Garza. She's Puerto Rican and her boyfriend just through 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 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?"

"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. I thought for a minute the guy would kick her in the face."

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

Angela 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 the money 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.

"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."

"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 make up. She's wearing Angela's. Mine is the wrong color. Let's go."

Within five minutes Pedro, Patricia, was presented with clothes worth more than his rich uncles farm. He was thoroughly embarrassed to be dressed and undressed by so many women, particularly considering the way they were looking at him. He felt like a lamb being chosen for slaughter.

But there was a mirror. A full length mirror, the like of which he had only heard of and never seen before. He was shocked at the transformation. 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 he was not in rough men's clothing, he turned into in expensive young women's wear. He fell in love with it all.

He even fell in love with the shoes. At first he didn't understand them. When they put on the strapless formal and tied the hair back with a ribbon and clipped earrings on his ears, he thought he looked nice. But 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, she thought, 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 and passionately on the lips and went off to her room. Pedro watched her go and decided that however much he liked being Patricia, he would always be Pedro for her.

Sex with Gretchen afterward was anticlimactic. Gretchen was tired and did not have her usual drive. Pedro was distracted and still quite inexperienced. They performed sufficiently to satisfy a legal standard and went to sleep, spooned together. Pedro thought, as sleep finally claimed him, that he could get used to this.

***

Things went smoothly after that. In the morning he rose first and began to learn the intricacies of American plumbing. Shortly, there was a parade of mostly unclad 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, and 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 watched 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 in the 1960s, most shops were closed. Angela led 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, he 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 Saint Evies, Miss Walker looked up and nodded them through. Gretchen, she had her doubts about, but Angela Molinari was pure gold in her book. Look how she was showing that new girl how to accessorize. From her own pocket if Miss Walker was any judge.

She 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. Did not seem to have a cent, but the girls seemed to be rallying around her. In Miss Walker's rarely mistaken opinion, Patricia might be just the thing to build some character in a few of these wild girls. Within 10 minutes the arrangements had been made to move her 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 they had just purchased she patiently showed Pedro how to strip off the old and apply the new. At first Pedro found it a bit horrifying to become a painted street walker, but then it was only daring. After all, he thought, his 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 becoming very exciting. When he finally worked up the courage to make a fumbling gesture, Angela only smiled and shook her head. His English was not good, but he managed what "Not yet dear." meant. That was all right with him. He was patient.

He would not have a long wait. Identical twins Candi and Brandi Dunworthy rolled in shortly before 4:00. To say that they were Gretchen's star pupils would be to say that they were inexperienced on arrival at St Evie's, which they were not. 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 Pedro getting his makeup redone for the umpteenth time.

Patricia looked absolutely stunning. Her past shoulder length hair was brushed out and back, framing his 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 his very dark eyes and raven hair it was just enough. As Angela turned him to the mirror to see her handy work, both the girls began to lose baggage and nonessential clothing. When Angela returned him 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.