When I got the promotion from the sales desk to outside sales of a large paper manufacturer I was elated. It meant I would be traveling, which I loved to do. It also meant I wouldn't be sitting alone at night in the apartment I had shared with my boyfriend, now exboyfriend, of five years, who I found out had been having sex with my best girlfriend. Or should I say, my ex bestgirlfriend. May they both rot in hell. Yea, I know. Sour grapes.

My first assignment was to Chicago. The windy city. Home to the Chicago Blackhawks, Cubs, White Socks, Bulls and cattle yards of the Midwest. A city I had never been to. Let’s say, one of the many cities I had never been to.

The company had an apartment there where the representative for that area could stay. It was a cozy one bedroom, with living/dining room combination, bathroom, small office & kitchen, which I understood had not been used much, except to make the odd coffee, or make a drink.

The expense account was divided in two. For you and for client entertainment. Your part I was told was enough to cover three meals a day, plus.

I caught a flight out of Portland on a Sunday afternoon, arrived in Chicago that night about eight and got to the apartment about nine thirty. I was heading home the next Sunday.

The place was stuffy when I got there, so opened all the windows that I could. Put my bras, panties/pantyhose, garterbelts, which I wore if I felt like being naughty, in the dresser and hung my blouses, skirts and dresses in the closet. Some would think I was going away for a month, but us girls had to be prepared for anything. And of course all that stuff to make us beautiful close to the mirror with the best lighting, the bathroom. Oh, I forgot that other piece of necessary equipment, unless you wore that wet look, hairdryer, there too.

Freshened up. Went to the hotel just across the street and into the dining room. Ordered a steak, medium rare, bake potato with sour cream, chives and baby carrots. Chocolate mousse for dessert. A small decanter of white wine.

Tried not to look around at the other people, but couldn't help but notice the men, especially those with women, looking my way until they got caught by their lady friend/wife. I was hungry and didn't want to wait for a table by the window, so took one that seemed, to me anyhow, in the centre of the room. Such is the life of a woman sitting alone, unless they want to get noticed by men and I guess in some cases women, in this day and age.

Ate. Drank. Listened to the piano player situated in a corner. Made eye contact, if necessary, with a few of the women. Smiled politely. Some smiled back. Others just turned away. I didn't care. This was all a new world to me. A new life. I felt like a somebody now.

Returned to the apartment. Undressed. Washed up. Washed the pantyhose I had worn that day. Hung them over a towel on a towel rack. Put on my new nightie. Looked in the mirror. Felt sexy.

Shut off the bedroom light. The same with the living/dining room. Sat in a chair, sort of facing the window. Ran my plan for the meeting I was holding the next day through my mind. The meeting was going to be in one of the meeting rooms in the hotel across the road. Was just getting up to go to bed,