O nce a month, Paula goes out into the night to find her husband, to show him that she knows he is not just playing cards as he claims. But when he finally stumbles out the door, all she can do is stare at him. She cannot find the words.
He looks back, and then he gets into his car and leaves. As Paula and an activist band of other wives see it, the meninas have invaded and degraded their town.
To explain the hold these Brazilian women have over their husbands, the wives tell themselves stories, accusing the prostitutes of using drugs and even witchcraft to seduce the men. People would have tried to look the other way, but Paula and her small crew of wives dragged the mess out into the town square. They are watching eight pretty young Brazilian women take turns dancing with a pole on a makeshift stage, twirling and arching under the low colored lights.
It is one night. At this early hour, just before midnight, the women could be mistaken for college girls β tight black clothing, skirts hiked up, eyes bright. Later they will take their clothes off for money and leave with men for more money. But now, they are singing along to Brazilian pop under red lights, and they are laughing and seem happy. Anita, 25, is one of the veterans; she arrived a whole two months ago. She knew full well she would be working as a prostitute.
And to her great relief, she says, he was very kind. Other Top Model employees agree. That first night, Podence showed her and a few other new arrivals the shining monuments of Paris, lit up as in the movies.
