“Every moment you’re not on your back is a moment lost.” Freda untied the string that gathered the fabric of Batya’s shirt above her chest, then yanked it open to expose her shoulders and the tops of her breasts. She slapped Batya’s backside toward the window and thrust a red rose at her. “Sit there, and if no one comes up within fifteen minutes, I’ll report you to my brother.”

Instantly, Batya closed herself off, becoming Esperanza. She settled by the window. Back in Russia, Moskowitz had told Surale that in Buenos Aires there were one hundred men for each woman. In truth, there were thousands to one, and men’s sexual appetites were insatiable. Satisfied one day, they came back for more the next—or as soon as they obtained more money.

Smiling toward the street, Batya stroked her cheek with the rose’s petals and trailed the flower down toward her cleavage. She took deep gulps of air to tamp down the fear and disgust she felt at the prospect of yet another unpredictable stranger.

In the coming hours she hardened her heart to endure the humping, sweating, panting men who pawed at her buttocks and breasts, who kissed her mouth with slathered onion- and tobacco-stinking saliva, whose rough, unshaven faces scratched her cheeks, neck, and chest, whose bodies smelled of acrid sweat and stale sugarcane alcohol. Some wanted to watch themselves climax onto her breasts. Some paid Freda extra to climax in Batya’s mouth. God, keep my soul pure, Batya thought. Even if worms are eating my heart, please keep it pure, as it is Yours.

The hardest men to ignore were those who enjoyed slapping and biting until her skin was black and blue. There had been men who tied her to the bedposts or even choked her. As soon as Batya detected such needs, she would make a quick flamenco dance move, banging her heels on the floor. That summoned Freda, who then charged the client for the additional services before he could proceed.

Batya preferred the younger boys, the ones she inducted into the mystery of women’s bodies. They were confused or embarrassed, eager but always gentle, so unlike some judges, journalists, policemen, lawyers, businessmen, and politicians. Once the boys were hers, they often became regulars who paid for her time as frequently as they could afford. Invariably, they told her about conflicts in their families and shared with her the anguish and joys of their studies or emerging careers. Unlike some old men who appreciated when she revived their aging bodies but expected no more from a prostitute, the young men improved her Spanish.