It’s well after midnight on a Saturday morning, but traffic is as thick as rush hour along a four-block industrial stretch in East New York, Brooklyn.
Scantily clad women walk mid-block, their heels click-clacking on the asphalt as they move from car to car, leaning into driver’s side windows to entice the next man in line.
One woman on the sidelines, appearing disinterested, sips from a can of Red Bull through a straw.
It’s a rare break in a cycle that repeats for hours on end: Hopping into strangers’ cars, riding out of view for 10, sometimes 30 minutes, then getting dropped back off to do it all again.
This open-air sex market has operated in plain sight on Friday and Saturday nights for months. The women, many likely trafficking victims, stop drivers who line up for their services. Their pimps pull the strings from the shadows.