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 t...ey 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. "What do you do?"Zabba laughed, with an indecent lack of restraint. "What do you think? This is a Brothel you know! I suppose I could just be a receptionist or a cook or something, though I don't think they'd let me do jobs like that! And they certainly wouldn't pay as well! No, Ana darling, I'm a prostitute. Like your friend, Binta! What else could I be?"Ana's cheeks burnt through the film of chlorinated water. She hated to be reminded of the sordid aspects of where she worked. She still found. More

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