A Charity Case

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.