The Winners Circle by Christopher Klim

to taste the wine and choose the dessert. He needed to figure out women again, although he’d never figured them out to begin with. He’d fallen in and out with Chelsea by two incredible strokes of luck. He didn’t expect lightning to strike again in his lifetime.
    After he paid in cash and left ten dollars with the coat check girl, Jerry found the limousine waiting by the curb. He saw Gina ducking inside. He got in behind her.
    The car cruised up Nassau Street. They’d be at the hotel in minutes. He was nervous, undecided whether to invite her up or drive her home. He rationalized that he’d already had his hands on her chest all those months ago.
    “ I can go home with you.” A knot formed in his throat. “I mean, I can ride you home.”
    “ Either way.” Gina slid beside him on the seat. Her dress was black with subtle gold flecks. You only saw it when you were up close, like when she pressed up against him.
    Her leg draped over his knee, as she took hold of the knob of his shoulder with both hands. Through the slit in the side of her dress, he noticed the pink straps holding up her black stockings.
    The driver rolled up the privacy screen. Shadowy hulks of trees and buildings passed by the tinted glass.
    Gina’s eyes were dark brown, perhaps a tad too closely set, not a big problem. He felt her breath on his face. She liked to crowd him. She’d never remind him of Chelsea, thank God.
    “ I’m going to make this easy for you,” she said. “I like flowers and jewelry. I want to go on vacations. I don’t like getting dirty. I’m twenty-six. My mother and grandmother each gave birth to five children. If you don’t like my family, you don’t have to speak to them. If there’s something that you want in bed, you have to ask, unless of course you don’t know what you like, and then we can figure it out.”
    He let her undo his necktie. How Gina-like. She was closing the deal on the spot. Perhaps he needed a deal-closer in his life.
    She kissed him and pushed away to undo the back of her dress. Jerry kept thinking about foreplay—what he might say, where to touch her first, how fast or slow, all the complicated things meant to define sex—but here she was shedding her clothes in the limo. They weren’t going to make it back to the penthouse. His pulse heightened. He wished he’d finished that glass of wine at dinner.
    “ Tell the driver to take it slow.” She straddled his lap, bare-chested, a pink garter belt anchoring her stockings to her thighs.
    He groped for the intercom. “Take us to New Brunswick, please.”
    “ Yes, sir.” The driver replied. The speaker clicked off.
    Jerry heard the slight tremor in his voice. To appear cool, he needed to keep his mouth shut.
    “ Is this your first time since ... ?” Gina unbuttoned his shirt.
    “ It’s been a while,” he admitted. Her skin felt soft in his hands. Gina never exercised. It wasn’t in her nature. He pictured her after having children—larger, stately. He’d get used to it. She’d always be younger.
    “ It’s not a problem.” She ripped the belt from the loops of his pants. It cracked like a whip. “Let’s take it at your pace.”
    He didn’t love her, although he questioned the value in it. If he had to recreate the ideal woman, wouldn’t it be like Gina? She was willing, flexible. She wanted to be comfortable. Was that too much to ask?
    His pants and underwear bunched around his ankles and shoes. Gina unsnapped her underwear. The straps of the garter belt fell free like the ribbons on a present. Maybe Arlene was right. The good life was an endowment to the truly deserving, although he wondered what he’d done to deserve this.
    He pressed her to his chest, working with her, trying to discover her style. He discovered his desire in the mix.
    “ That’s it, baby,” she said. “Touch me there.”
    He raised his legs, bracing them against the seat, kicking the stereo by accident. Heavy metal music blasted from the console.