There are more than just 50,000 oil executives in town for the Offshore Technology Conference this week — there is also an accompanying invasion of high-end hookers.

It's a big business week all around in Houston, with many escorts flying in from Las Vegas to take advantage of the oil and gas guys holed up in Houston hotel rooms.

Ever the curious type, I decided to enlist girlfriends and scour the steakhouses for professional seductresses. "Be careful," some cautioned.

"Dont worry," I replied. "These are the fancy kind."

We had by far the best luck at Mo's A Place for Steaks, where suddenly (around 10:30 p.m.) the almost all-male crowd was inundated with scantily clad young things taking cards and holding court. I saw some of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen, and I think I might start hanging with the hussies more often. The once-overs thrice-overs my friends and I got should have probably offended us, but I for one was flattered — even if they were internally reviewing price points.

On Monday evening, the first time we trolled for tramps, I'm pretty sure we were even solicited. An older gentleman hovered and leered at our table until we finally spoke to him. Our tab? Close to $70. His face once he learned we were locals, and later that our parents and he shared friends? Priceless.

Most amazing was how accurate my preconceptions were. After trying to talk myself out of the stereotypes promulgated by Pretty Woman and Leaving Las Vegas, I found that hookers look exactly how I expected them to look. And they conduct themselves pretty much the same way. And I'm pretty sure I saw a pimp.

Also of note: How open and good-humored (most of) the bartenders and managers are about the illicit elicitors. Before I had seen any for myself, I asked a bartender at Del Frisco's how he could tell the difference between a prostitute and a regular customer. He mentioned short skirts (cleavage means nothing), boldly sitting directly next to a man even when there are open chairs at the bar, going for guys with accents (they're definitely from out of town) and initiating conversation as surefire signs.

In short? We're all slores.

OTC ends today, but rumor has it that ladies of the night are also ladies who lunch — at least yesterday, at Brennan's. I think tomorrow calls for turtle soup.