Patrick Prescott


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P.M. Prescott Enterprises on Smashwords


Copyright 2011 by P.M. Prescott Enterprises

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I’m Sixty years old. With a nutritionist and trainer I keep pretty trim, but I work sixteen hour days and sleep in the corporate jet more hours every year than my bed. Three failed marriages and I’ve learned my lesson about marrying for love. I’ve never paid for a hooker, though if I’m in town on business and one is offered to sweeten the deal I won’t offend my host by refusing his hospitality.

The best sex of my life is with women like that. I know their smiles and willingness is as phony as their orgasms, but you don’t have to beg or put up with attitude. At social gatherings I run across the wives other corporation heads drape on their arms and sorry the starved little girl look with inflated boobs and nothing between the ears isn’t my style. Tiring of wife number three and a barren bed I came to the conclusion that a companion who is willing to have and enjoy sex is my heart’s desire and if that means finding a hooker and making a business deal, then so be it.


Sasha works at a strip club in Houston. Lots of oil money in this city which brings in the best looking women, and she’s a knock out. I’m in town for a week of negotiations on a two billion dollar deal and good old boys love to mix business with pleasure. My business associates pick the place, but I’m paying. One look gets my heart racing. I make a few calls to get her background and sit back to enjoy the show. The whole week every time she asks if I want a dance I refuse and chose other girls. She entertains the four guys I’m doing business with so I enjoy her company, but not greedy for tying up the best talent. I see her looks of disappointment every time I politely say no and put a twenty under her G-string. I choose one of the older strippers for lap dances that most likely is not earning as much as the younger ones so as not to seem a prude.

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