Comfort Food

By Adrian M. Gray

Culture shock! Jimmy Burton is thrust from his traditional Midwest surroundings into the insanity of Los Angeles. Immersed in a city filled with exotic, beautiful women, he struggles with his innermost wants, needs, and sexual desires. Backward, shy, and unsure of himself, with his lack of confidence evident, he is befriended by the unlikeliest of women who begins to help him find his way in this new and strange place when, with one smoldering, hot kiss, their worlds collide. Lust, passion, sizzling sex, and romance burst into a torrid affair as they explore Los Angeles.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 29, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543437164

Adrian M. Gray

College Graduate, car lover, sports fan, and rock-n-roll enthusiast. Health care professional by day, dreamer by night. Lover of music and words that paint vivid images in my mind. This story has been in growing inside of me most of my life. It was through the encouragement of many of my friends and family that I put this story down on paper to share with the world.

Book preview

Copyright © 2017 by Adrian M. Gray.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2017911179

ISBN:                  Hardcover                  978-1-5434-3718-8

                      Softcover                    978-1-5434-3717-1

                             eBook                          978-1-5434-3716-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in whole or in part in any form or by other means—electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by information storage and retrieval system—without permission by the author.

Comfort Food is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or locales is coincidence.

Except for the original material written by the author, all songs, song titles, and lyrics mentioned by the author are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

Cover Design: Adrian M. Gray

Cover Photography: Babur Khan Photography, Copyright © 2016 by Adrian M. Gray

Graphic Artists: Steven Sukhasame, Beverly Jenkins

Formatting: Adrian M. Gray

Copyediting: Beverly Jenkins, Jeremy T. Sellers, Kris Hawkins

Spanish Language Translation: Mary Claudia Alban

Contact the author and follow me.

E-mail: [e-mail]

Facebook: Adrian M. Gray

Twitter: @adrianmgray

Adrianmgray.com

Rev. date: 07/15/2017

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

764199

Contents

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

About The Author

About The Book

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

A special thanks to Mary, Jeremy, Chuck, Kris, Don, Claudette, and Howard for your support, encouragement, input, feedback, and inspiration during this long process and for helping me to follow my dream.

For my Maria . . . you know who you are.

Have you ever had to have something that feels so good yet you know that it is so bad for you?

Yeah! You know what I am talking about.

Comfort Food

Adrian M. Gray

CHAPTER 1

Opening my eyes in a daze, I hear the voice of the flight attendant. Welcome to Los Angeles. As I stare out the window of the plane, I realize this is a dream come true. Since I was a young boy, I have always wanted to live in LA. I’m not sure why. Maybe it was all the images that I had seen on television of palm trees, beaches, beautiful women, and fast cars. I’m excited to begin this new adventure and scared as hell at the same time!

Reaching into my pocket, I retrieve my cell to check the time. 7:15 a.m. Damn it! Behind schedule already! As the aircraft comes to a stop, I stand from the seat, taking my briefcase from the overhead bin. Mentally I am going through my checklist while preparing to exit the plane. I need to catch the shuttle to the car rental center and be at the condominium complex at ten a.m. Welcome to LA, Jimmy. Now focus!

Following the line of people deplaning through the flat gray aluminum walls of the Jetway, I slowly emerge in the deep aqua-blue carpeted boarding area leading to the hard, polished white tile of the concourse. Stopping for a moment, I take a quick look around to get my bearings. My excitement quickly turns to anxiety. I swallow forcefully while my brain tries to figure out this strange new world.

The walkway is congested. People are moving randomly in various directions, all while staring at electronic devices, not watching where they are going while dragging carry-on roller bags behind them. The noise in the busy terminal is almost deafening. Gate agents are paging passengers and announcing departing flights, and I can hear backup alarms and the whirr of golf carts passing by as the redcaps ferry people to and from their destinations.

Welcome to the jungle, I mutter aloud as I take a quick look left and right and jump into the chaos with both feet. My eyes are scanning the long hallway in front of me as I watch for the overhead signs guiding me to ground transportation and baggage claim while trying to negotiate my way through this maze of bodies.

Seeing a clear path, I hastily make a break for the exit when I feel a forceful impact against my body. What the hell was that? I look to see who or what I have crashed into. Looking down, I find an unimposing dark-haired little man dressed in a stuffy gray business suit sprawled out on the floor of the concourse, his briefcase in one hand while he’s still staring at his phone. Stopping, I ask if he’s okay while sticking out my hand to help him to his feet. He looks up at me strangely as if it was my fault. He was the one not paying attention! Man, I hope the rest of my day isn’t like this.

Rental car picked up, check. The GPS is programmed for the Metropolitan condominiums. And now . . . deep breath . . . the freeway. The GPS is saying it is eighteen miles to the destination, and the morning rush hour traffic is a nightmare. I am sure I’m going the right direction, but right now I feel so fucking lost. I’m sitting in a sea of brake lights, and the roadway is full of cars, trucks, buses, and limousines, all of us going nowhere fast. Moving five m.p.h. on a highway that is six lanes wide! People are changing lanes and not using their blinkers. This is insane! Oh, what have I gotten myself into? I groan.

My stress level is rising as I feel the blood rushing to my head with every passing minute, and all six feet and four inches of me being stuffed in this tiny rental car is only adding to my agitation.

"Grrrr!" I growl through clenched teeth. I don’t ever remember being this tense while driving.

Needing a distraction, I push the on button for the car radio, quickly tuning in to a local rock station. The station goes to a commercial break, and the traffic reporter states, Stop-and-go traffic on the 405 North going over the Sepulveda Pass.

No kidding! I say while pounding my fist against the steering wheel. I really hope I’m not going to be late for this appointment.

Peering out the windows on the drive through West Los Angeles, I’m trying to take in the sights while keeping one eye on traffic. I’ve never seen so many luxury cars in one place! Looking ahead, I see that the view is brightly illuminated by the early-morning sun. There are several tall buildings pressed against the backdrop of jagged earthen-brown and steel-gray, stone-colored mountains speckled with confetti of muted green. They are a stark contrast to the flat landscapes that I’m used to.

The freeway signs point out Santa Monica Boulevard and Wilshire Boulevard. Momentarily, my frustration subsides while the feelings of excitement return when it hits me exactly where I am. These are the places I’ve seen on TV! It’s almost surreal, even though I’m stuck in traffic. Focus, Jimmy!

Finally, I crest the mountain, arriving on the other side of Sepulveda Pass where I see the sign for 101 North. I switch lanes as I make my way to the exit, and traffic becomes less congested. I must be going the opposite of the flow of traffic. Merging onto 101 and finally moving at highway speed, I exhale, feeling my fingers ease their grip on the steering wheel, my arms and shoulders returning to a more relaxed position. The rest of the drive is far more enjoyable.

Looking at the clock on the radio, I think, It’s 9:55 a.m. On time! Thank God. I hate to be late. Pulling into the condominium complex, I see a sign. All visitors must check in at the security office. Finding a parking spot in the already-crowded visitor parking area, I leave the car and enter the main building. Taking a quick look around, I see that the walls are a warm tan color, very soft and inviting, and are decorated with large scenic paintings of the countryside from long ago. The floors are polished brown marble, and the waiting area has several obviously expensive brown leather high-back chairs.

I approach the security officer, who is alert and attentive standing behind the sleek black granite countertop. Good morning, sir. How may I help you? His voice is polite but authoritative.

Hello. I’m Jimmy Burton. I’m here to meet with Natasha Anatoly.

The security officer studies me quickly, scans his clipboard finding my name, and then asks me to sign in. He picks up the phone, and with a press of a button, announces my arrival to Natasha. Ms. Anatoly will be with you shortly. Please have a seat.

I reply a quick, Thank you, and make my way to one of the high-back chairs, sinking into the softest leather I have ever felt.

Sitting in the waiting area, I occupy my time playing solitaire on my cell. In the background, I can hear the security office become increasingly busy with doors opening and closing, phones ringing, and the clack of hard shoes striking the marble tiles. My focus is on the game when I feel a presence standing before me.

Mr. Burton. The sound of her voice immediately grabs my attention—a heavy Russian accent that resonates ever so sweetly in my ears. I look up to find a tall, thin blond woman with piercing deep-blue eyes. As our gazes meet, I find myself catching my breath and nearly dropping my phone. She is strikingly beautiful. Her prominent cheekbones, thin lips, and bright white smile remind me of European models I’ve seen in the magazines.

I rise to meet her. All of a sudden, my legs seem weaker than normal, and I find it difficult to stand. We’re looking almost eye to eye as I extend my hand to greet her. H-H-Hello, I’m Jimmy. Nice to meet you. I hear the words echo in my brain, and I struggle with the thought of how hard I find it to speak with the first introduction to a beautiful lady.

She shakes my hand. Hello, I am Natasha. Nice to meet you too, Mr. Burton. She sounds so much more confident in her introduction than I did.

Please, call me Jimmy.

Natasha smiles. Welcome to the Metropolitan, Mr. Burton. Let me show you to your new home. Please follow me. She takes out a pair of wire-rimmed small black sunglasses and puts them on.

As Natasha turns to walk out the door, I examine every exquisite inch of her from behind. She is dressed in a crisp, professional black pantsuit. It molds to every one of her feminine curves perfectly. Her flowing long blond hair drapes down to her midback and shines against her jacket. Her backside is thrust outward by her four-inch stiletto heels. I grab my briefcase as she leads me outside to a golf cart.

Get in, Mr. Burton.

Instantly I snap back to reality, fumbling with my sunglasses while taking my seat.

I will give you the grand tour of the community.

Okay! I reply with excitement. I’m not certain of what to expect.

As we proceed down the driveway, I see scads of multilevel condominiums. The buildings alternate in colors—red, brown, and gray stucco with their exterior balconies painted white. Parking spaces line both sides of the road. The cars parked here are all luxury automobiles, and none of them are as simple as the little Ford I’m renting.

Mr. Burton, the Metropolitan is considered to be the highest standard in upscale community living here in the valley, Natasha explains.

Suddenly, I am overcome with this feeling that I’m really out of my element. Come on, Jimmy, you can do this!

We take the first turn when a large A-frame building nestled in the center of the complex comes into view. Natasha indicates, This is the community center. The gym, pool, tennis courts, and basketball courts are located here. Your remote gate key will give you access to all facilities.

Remote gate key? What happened to old-fashioned metal keys?

We pull up to the building. Mr. Burton, let’s go inside, and I’ll show you the amenities. She reaches in her front jacket pocket, pulling out a single key ring. It has one shiny brass-colored key with a tiny gray-colored remote box attached to it. She takes the gray remote, swiping it over a sensor, and I hear the lock disengage.

Grabbing the door, I hold it open. Ladies first.

Natasha smiles and politely says, Thank you.

Entering, I notice that the floors are all polished marble with vivid white and gray swirls. From the ceiling hangs a giant crystal chandelier with gold inlays. Natasha leads me to the center of the room, stopping directly underneath the chandelier, giving us a complete 360-degree view. The front and back walls are identical with floor-to-ceiling windows and a set of double doors in the center. There are two large rooms, one on each side, with floor-to-ceiling windows as the interior walls allow full view of the inside.

She points out the gym with the nautilus machines in a room located off to the left. I can see that the far side of the gym is a solid wall of floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Natasha indicates that there is a conference room off to the right. The conference room also doubles as a business center. It has a fax machine and several computers with one that is connected to an overhead projector. If you would like to have a meeting in the office space, you will need to schedule it in advance with the concierge. I nod in acknowledgment.

She then guides me to the far side of the community center. Walking toward the doors, we see the L-shaped, Olympic-sized pool come into view. The crystal-blue water is surrounded by pristinely white deck chairs. At the far end of the pool, there is a square-shaped hot tub that looks like it will seat twenty people easy, and it’s full right now.

As Natasha leads the way, we move to the outside where we stand on the balcony overlooking paradise. As I stand against the rail, my jaw drops. I see several, well-toned female forms lying on the chairs, sunbathing. The view from up here is amazing! All those beautiful women are scantily clad in the tiniest of bikinis, their skin colors ranging from a light bronze to cocoa brown. I feel like a hungry wolf salivating over a flock of sheep. Women don’t look like this in Ohio! Thank God for sunglasses!

Again, I’m pulled back to the task at hand by Natasha’s voice. Mr. Burton, for your convenience, you have twenty-four-hour access to the community center and the pool. However, we ask that you and your guests observe the quiet time in the pool area from ten p.m. to eight a.m. Again, I nod in acknowledgment. Natasha turns away from the railing, leaning back against it. If you will follow me, your new home awaits. I’m finding her accent to be so seductive.

Back in the golf cart, we zoom off to the last building on the main row. Natasha points out that all the structures have letter codes on the outside. I look up seeing a giant letter X on the building. Using the gray remote, we access the building, entering on the garage level. Natasha explains to me that all exterior parking is for visitors.

Mr. Burton, your visitors will need to sign in at the security office, and they must display a visitor’s parking pass on the dash of their automobiles for the duration of their stay. You will have your own garage space, which is the same as your unit number.

Pretty simple, I muse.

We take the elevator to the first floor. The doors part to an open-air interior corridor with the entrances of the condos facing each other. It is tastefully decorated with many beautiful, lush-green tropical plants. We walk around several twists and turns, finally arriving at a center courtyard that allows the warm sun to shine down on us.

These are the executive units, Natasha explains. The rooms are larger, and they have upgraded amenities. We come to the second unit on the left, number 121. Natasha stops. "This is it, Mr. Burton, Building X and Unit 121." Just as Natasha places the real metal key into the lock and is about to turn it, a gorgeous, tiny Latin woman appears. She stops and stands next to me. I tower over her. Wow! I am instantly taken by her beauty and immediately begin to feel very nervous. Natasha, seeing this woman out of the corner of her eye, leaves the key dangling in the door and turns to greet her.

Ms. Ferreira, let me introduce you to your new neighbor. This is Mr. Burton. While turning and looking at me, Natasha continues, Ms. Ferreira resides in the unit on the right next to yours.

I stick out my hand. H-H-Hello, I’m Jimmy. Nice to meet you.

Again, the same thing happened. I could barely get the words out. I feel the pale, cold, white skin of my face turning red as I struggle to speak.

Hello, Jimmy. I am Maria. Nice to meet you too.

She smiles while shaking my hand. I have never heard an accent like hers before.

Maria is dressed in workout clothes. She must be heading to the gym as her dark long hair is pulled back into a braided ponytail. You can see that she has taken very good care of herself. Her skin is a soft cinnamon brown, with a beautiful ultrawhite smile, full lips, and the most inviting big brown eyes, and oh my god, curves for days. Her full round