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burrowed almost all the way into the cabinet. “The only responses with anything in common have a husband who is never home. Traveling salesmen, golf widows, even a restaurant site selector—the guys are always gone.”
    “Ohhhh. Traveling salesmen?” She pulled her head out of the cupboard. “You could do a lot with a traveling salesman.”
    “That’s what I was thinking!” I stuffed some utensils back in a drawer, then began stacking the pots I’d pulled out.
    “With your job, you have lots of opportunities for meeting salesmen.” She emerged from the cabinet and began going through the pantry.
    “There always seems to be a sales convention of some sort going on.” I nodded, getting into the idea. “I’ve been worrying about tuition for Stephen. So, here’s my thinking. A traveling salesman is the perfect answer to all my concerns. One woman wrote that she had one week on and three weeks off each month, so I’m thinking one week of sizzling sex and then he’s gone again, leaving me to do my own thing. He sends home his paycheck and Stephen’s tuition is covered.”
    “I love it.” Connie tossed back the last of her martini.
    I loved it myself. Maybe the surveys really had given me the answer I was looking for. Surely I’d have lots of salesmen to choose from. It was only a matter of applying myself to meeting as many as possible.
    “Have you considered holding auditions?”
    “What kind?”
    “Sexual auditions. With all the bad luck you’ve had in the bedroom, let me tell you, the last thing you want is a man who’s not sexually compatible.”
    “Great idea.” Connie had bragged about Mind-Blowing Sex ever since I’d known her. I never got any and wondered if I ever would. This could be my shot at it.
    A muffled thud and the sound of the front door lock turning made Connie shriek. She grabbed her purse and mine, then dragged me by the arm to the sliding door exiting onto a patio.
    I glanced back through the hedges we’d ducked behind and took in the disorder we’d created, just as the Asshole Professor stepped into the kitchen. He didn’t appear to see us as we sneaked behind shrubbery and made our way back to the car. I wondered if he’d know it was me or think some mystery lush had raided his wet bar.
    “Do you think he’ll call the police?”
    “We didn’t steal anything.” Connie shrugged as she started the car. “What’s he going to say? ‘Hello, Officer. I want to report a mess?’“
    She had a point. Although I was disappointed about not finding my wayward skillet, I was pretty revved about the decision I’d made. The answer to all my problems was to hunt down the perfect traveling salesman. I could become a salesman groupie.

CHAPTER TWO
    Dear Unhappily Single Woman,
    Are you nuts? Instead of sending out surveys, you should be counting your blessings!
    My husband retired a couple of years ago and has been under my feet 24/7 until I insisted he find a hobby because he drove me nuts. He started working out at the spa. Now, after thirty-two of the best years of my life, the louse left me for a slut half his age. His personal trainer!
    I hope she has better luck training him than I did.
    You want the truth? Men are just children in larger bodies. Honey, you don’t want the heartache. Stay single and invest in a Rocket Propulsion Vibramatic Model XXX19.
    Yours sincerely,

    Over the next week, more survey responses trickled in. I sat at my desk in the corner of my dining room, riffling through the survey responses like Midas counting gold coins and daydreaming about auditions and M.B.S. (Mind Blowing Sex).
    After reading a survey questioning my sanity for wanting a man at all, doubts about my traveling salesman plan crept in.
    It did seem sort of harebrained. Would setting my sights on a salesman classify me as a gold digger? What made me think a relationship with a salesman would be any better than the ones I’d already been involved in? And, bottom line, was I really that