Scarlet And Ebony Pt 01

Author's Note: All characters, events, and places described in this narrative are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This is a somewhat different story series from what I've written in the past which have been published in the Interracial category. This one will be based entirely in the United States and will be more of a traditional romance style of story -- no affairs or cheating (at least by the main characters!), no hidden relationships or international criminal plots. I hope everyone enjoys this story with a more positive ending.

All comments and feedback are welcomed.

HF

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Outside it was a warm summer evening, the end to another beautiful Friday in San Francisco as the city's inhabitants and tourists alike started to flock to the various bars and restaurants that dotted the city. The Pacific was one of San Francisco's newest and most popular bars. It had a unique and eclectic combination of historical artifacts from the city's past, as well as numerous nods to its current tech focus. The hum of conversation mingled with the low thrum of jazz music at the bar, the dim lighting casting an intimate glow over the patrons, a diverse group of tech workers, businesspeople, and tourists.

Amongst them all, Catherine Donovan sat perched on a leather barstool at a small round table just a few feet from the bar, the soft velvet of her black dress clinging seductively to her pale, full curves, her legs crossed in front of her, her lips painted a perfect shade of vibrant red that matched her flame red hair. Across from her, Kevin, a painfully dull tech worker, droned on about his latest coding project. At 37 years of age, and after 10 years of marriage, she had been hesitant to start dating again -- she knew how to throw a fantastic house party or organize a ski trip to Aspen, but actual dating... well, that wasn't something she hadn't done in an exceedingly long time. Her friend Amy had insisted Kevin was a 'great guy,' someone who could help her get back into the dating scene after the wreckage of her divorce, but after only half a glass of wine in, Catherine was already regretting agreeing to this date.

"...and that's when I realized, the whole system needed to be recompiled. The algorithms were just running suboptimal operations, and no one else on the team even noticed," Kevin said, his eyes wide behind his thick-rimmed glasses. He smiled as if waiting for her to be impressed.

The attractive, redheaded woman forced a polite nod, swirling her wine glass lazily, the wine being the most enjoyable part of the evening so far. Her parents had always taught her to be polite, at least while she was out in public. Her father, a retired Air Force officer, had always said, 'Never let them know what you're thinking.' As she sat there, listening to Kevin, she found it increasingly difficult to follow her father's guidance. This has to be worse than any court case, she thought to herself. "That sounds... challenging," she said, her lips pursing a touch more than she would have liked as she gave him what she hoped would be a cross between a sympathetic and appreciative look.

She took another sip of her Pinot Noir, sighing internally as Kevin started up again, clearly taking her sparse responses to mean that she was in awe of his intellect and technical knowledge. She didn't dislike him or who he was. Kevin was a good guy, a nice guy. Just boring. Really boring. She'd met many nice and some... not so nice... guys in her life. Her ex-husband, Harry, had started in the first category but had definitely ended up in the second. Another corporate lawyer like her; they had been introduced through a mutual friend in 2011 just after completing her Juris Doctor at the Harvard Law School and passing the California State Bar. Perhaps I should avoid getting introductions from friends, she thought wryly to herself as she listened to Kevin continue to regale her with coding stories.

At first, her relationship with Harry had seemed to be a romance based on their mutual interests around law, but there was also a deeper connection as they had started to date and enjoy each other's company, both of them encouraging the other in the pursuit of their career goals. It had continued to grow over the next six months, until that wonderful evening when he proposed to her in Rome. She hadn't even suspected he was planning to propose -- the trip seemed like a great idea at the time, a holiday away from their hectic careers, both of which were really starting to take off at that point.

She had immediately said yes, maybe a bit too enthusiastically, Catherine often reflected in hindsight. But he had seemed so right, so perfect. Her parents loved him, her friends loved him, everyone loved him. Maybe that was the problem -- everyone loved him, particularly other women, it seemed.

Their wedding had been a wonderfully extravagant affair, she could still remember being introduced to their friends and relatives as Mr. and Mrs. Blazeman as they entered the ballroom. Harry, tall, attractive with dark brown hair and hazel-green eyes, had looked so handsome and distinguished in his tailored tuxedo, and she remembered the beautiful ivory-colored, silk wedding gown that she'd worn on that perfect day -- Catherine idly wondered if anyone had ever opened the dress box that she'd dumped in the street outside their old house when she'd left.

It had been a good few years for them, at least at the start of their marriage. They had moved into a large house in Hillsborough, just south of San Francisco, that had been a wedding gift from his family, enjoyed regular holidays to Europe and ski trips to Aspen. All the trappings of a successful couple climbing the corporate ladder. Then the work-life balance started to change; long nights, weekends in the office, soon they were seeing less and less of each other. Catherine had taken it all in her stride, she had a good career, and a loving husband, some small sacrifices needed to be made.

She'd come from a large Irish-American family, one of five children, and soon after the wedding, her various collections of aunts and cousins had started to drop hints and politely inquire in the typically roundabout Irish manner as to when she would start her own family. As always, she would smile and deflect the question on to some other topic.

In reality, she and Harry had decided not to have children, or at least Harry had convinced her not to have any, claiming it would impinge on their enjoyable and comfortable life together. At least that's what he'd told her while they were married -- a mutual family friend had recently confided in Catherine that Tiffany was now several months pregnant. Catherine had gone along with his wishes, despite her subtle, nagging desire to have a family of her own, faithfully remaining on the pill throughout their marriage, much to the chagrin of her staunchly Catholic mother. If only Harry had been so faithful, she thought ruefully.

She could still recall coming home early from work that afternoon, planning to go for a swim in their pool before surprising Harry with dinner and a rare night where she didn't have to work through legal files. She had even been planning on wearing the Victoria's Secret corset and Cervin Bas silk stockings that she had purchased several weeks earlier as a naughty surprise for him. She loved the look of the corset when she'd tried it on in the store, perfectly accentuating her athletic but curvy figure and enhancing her full 34D bust, the green satin fabric complimenting her pale complexion and flame red hair.

As she pulled into their driveway, she saw that Harry's car was parked there, which surprised her. He hadn't told her about coming home early. As she had stepped inside, she recalled how a strange feeling of unease had washed over her. The house was unusually quiet and for some reason she had stopped herself from calling out to her husband to let him know she was home.

It was always the little things that she recalled about that afternoon and Catherine remembered how her heels had clicked against the hardwood floor as she had moved through the hallway. That's when she noticed it -- the start of a trail of clothing. There, on the polished wood, lay Harry's suit jacket and tie, both crumpled and discarded, as if he had been in a rush to undress.

The next items she found were a pair of red high-heeled shoes at the foot of the stairs leading up to the bedrooms. She had realized immediately that they were not hers -- but she'd seen them before, when she had visited Harry at his office. They belonged to Tiffany, one of Harry's legal assistants. A blonde, curvaceous woman with an affected charming laugh that had always grated on Catherine.

Silently, she had followed the trail of clothing upstairs towards their bedroom, each item becoming increasingly intimate. Harry's loafers that he'd put on that morning, a woman's jacket that she hadn't recognized, a white silk blouse that was lying crumpled near the top of the stairs with his crisp white shirt next to it.

As she had approached the bedroom door, she found a black knee-length skirt lying tangled with a pair of sheer black pantyhose. Nearby were Harry's suit pants, lying just outside the bedroom door. She had heard it then -- the soft moans and groans of two people making love. Or was it fucking?

Almost in shock, Catherine had pushed open the bedroom door to take in the sight before her. Their remaining items of clothing had been discarded between the door and bed, Harry's boxers and Tiffany's lacy bra and panties. She had recalled that Harry must have been too excited by the thought of bedding his voluptuous blonde assistant that he'd forgotten to take off his black socks. She recalled that she still noticed this small detail despite the fact that Tiffany was gyrating wildly on top of her husband as he lay on their marital bed.

She remembered how she had watched, open mouthed as he lay there, propped up against the headboard, a look of shock and disbelief plastered on his face when he saw her standing in the doorway. And there was Tiffany -- her back arched, her large, clearly enhanced, breasts waving in front of Catherine's husband's face as her long, blonde hair cascaded down her back like a golden waterfall.

"Catherine!" Harry had gasped. She reflected afterwards that he had always called her Cat -- except perhaps this time, the time that he was caught with his cock buried deep inside his blonde assistant. He had scrambled to cover herself, his expression shifting from shock to panic. Tiffany froze on top of him when she looked over her shoulder and realized Catherine was standing there, her mouth agape, surprise written all over her pretty features.

"Don't let me stop you..." Catherine had said icily to the pair before simply turning on her heel and walking straight out of the house to her car. Harry had tried to rush after her but, by the time he had pulled on his boxers, her car was already halfway down the driveway. She drove for two hours, not really going anywhere in particular, her mind blank, her face expressionless. Eventually she stopped at a small motel somewhere down near Carmel and rented a room for the night. That was when she cried. Hard.

Thanks to her Irish-American heritage, Catherine had always been a strong-willed, confident, and independent woman, but the divorce had hit her hard. There had been many long nights where she would cry all night or seek solace in a bottle of wine before falling asleep, drunk and exhausted. Harry had tried to manage the fallout, paint himself in a better light, blaming the indiscretion, as he called it, on a momentary lapse, an error of judgement, brought on by their hectic work schedules. Catherine had often wondered if this had been a once-off occurrence or part of a longer affair, something Harry had strenuously denied. With both of them being lawyers, the divorce was almost guaranteed to drag out, but, after six months of wrangling, he'd eventually agreed to the settlement.

Now, she was determined to start afresh. With the divorce and settlement finalized, she'd secured enough financially to move on with her life and the change back to her maiden name of Donovan had been almost cathartic for her. Work had been a refuge for her, during and now after the divorce -- her sharp legal mind, coupled with a deeply analytical and meticulous personality, ensured that she had plenty of work to keep her occupied at AscendTech, the tech company in Silicon Valley where she had worked for as their Chief Legal Officer. But is this all to life? She had often considered this thought, the divorce being the catalyst for her to reevaluate her priorities in life.

She forced herself to focus back on what Kevin was saying as her eyes drifted around the bar behind him. The bar was certainly popular and was packed with the usual post-work crowd. She'd always enjoyed socializing, well that was before the divorce, she thought ruefully. Harry had always enjoyed her dry, witty sense of humor and they had often shared playful, intellectual banter -- would I ever find that again, she thought? But listening to Kevin was proving to be one of the most painful experiences of her life. And that's saying something, she thought as she reflected on the events of her divorce.

With a barely suppressed sigh, she watched the door, hoping for a distraction -- any distraction -- that might pull her from this one-sided conversation. The bar's floor-to-ceiling windows reflected the city lights outside, and Catherine felt a pang of longing to be anywhere but here, trapped with a man whose passion for his job was so consuming that he seemed to have forgotten how to hold a real conversation. Even being in court listening to Harry's attorney was more interesting than this... she reflected.

"So, anyway," Kevin continued, "that's why I'm thinking of moving on to blockchain. It's the future of tech, you know. Everyone says it's where the big money is."

Catherine's smile tightened further. Blockchain... right, she thought. Riveting.

As Kevin's voice droned on, her blue eyes continued wandering past his shoulder, scanning the bar. That's when she saw him. A tall, African-American man with dark, deep brown skin and broad shoulders stood at the far end of the bar, quietly observing the scene in front of him. He was perhaps a few years older than her and dressed in a tailored navy suit with a crisp white shirt that was open at the collar. His jawline was strong, accented by a short, neatly-trimmed beard, and his posture exuded quiet confidence. Catherine's eyes met his for a brief moment. There was something in his gaze -- curiosity, perhaps amusement -- but more than that, an intensity that made her pulse quicken.

Kevin was still talking. About something. Catherine tried to refocus on him, but her mind had already wandered to Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome.

"Right, blockchain... sounds... complex," she muttered, her eyes flickering back to the man at the bar. I wonder where he's from and what he does... got to be more interesting than blockchain... Catherine thought to herself. Abruptly, she glanced away, realizing she had been staring at him for too long already.

Too late. The stranger's lips curled into the faintest hint of a smile, and before she knew it, he was walking toward her table. Oh, no... what's he going to do... she thought nervously as he approached them.

"Excuse me," a deep, smooth voice interrupted Kevin's monologue. Catherine looked up as the man now stood beside them, his presence commanding but not overwhelming. He glanced at her, his expression calm yet still unreadable, as if this were the most common thing on Earth for him to do. He glanced back at Kevin "So sorry to interrupt," he said smoothly to him before glancing back at Catherine, now a little smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. "Hey there. I'm so sorry I'm late, my meetings ran over time."

Kevin blinked, a look of confusion clouding his face as he glanced between the two of them. "Huh? What? Catherine... what's going on?"

Catherine's blue eyes widened in surprise, her heart skipping a beat as the tall stranger continued, his eyebrows rising fractionally, but enough for Catherine to catch it. "You said seven-thirty, didn't you?"

For a split second, Catherine hesitated. But then, the idea of escaping Kevin's tedious tech talk was far too tempting to resist. "Oh, of course. Yes, I did... I can't believe I lost track of time like that." She turned her face towards Kevin. "Kevin, I'm sorry, this is..." She paused, hoping the stranger would pick up on her prompt.

Without missing a beat, the tall Black man extended his hand. "Andre," he said, smoothly. Kevin shook his hand in dumb surprise as the man continued. "I went to school with her brother, we haven't seen each other in years." He turned to look back at Catherine, a friendly expression on his face. "What's it been, five... seven years? How is your brother by the way?"

"Oh, he's fine. Yes... it must have been that long, at least..." Catherine said with a little smile, playing along. "It's so good to see you again, Andre. My brother says hi by the way."

Kevin frowned, clearly baffled by the sudden turn of events. "Wait, Catherine... you didn't say anything about having plans."

Catherine grabbed her purse, smiling with forced politeness. "I'm sorry, Kevin. I didn't realize how late it was getting. But it was really great talking to you."

Before Kevin could protest, Andre slipped a hand to the small of her back -- light, nonintrusive, but clearly friendly -- and steered her toward the exit. Catherine felt a little thrill in the pit of her stomach at the touch, the boldness of his intervention catching her off guard. Wow... that was smooth... she thought to herself with a touch of excitement.

Once they were outside the bar, the cool San Francisco night air wrapped around them as they moved away from the noise and activity of the bar. As they left, she glanced around somewhat nervously, a habit that she had developed over the past few years and certainly something that wasn't related to her divorce or the Black man next to her. Although Catherine had enjoyed living in San Francisco, the last few years had been tough for the city -- the increasing levels of homelessness, crime and other social issues had turned what had once been vibrant sections of the city into almost no-go zones.

Even as she and the Black man strode away from the bar, Catherine noticed several homeless people nearby, slumped in doorways or lying on the pavement -- the divide between the haves and the have nots becoming increasingly stark in her city. It's terrible what's happening here... she thought to herself.

She had been accosted several times over the past few months, nothing serious, but it had forced her to become more vigilant for her safety. However, tonight, for some reason, the redheaded woman felt a strange sense of security as she left with the tall, muscular Black man -- as if something deep down told her that he'd protect her if anything happened. It was a comforting feeling and one she enjoyed as they made their way from the bar.

They'd gone a few dozen paces before Catherine finally exhaled and laughed, the tension in her shoulders melting away from the sheer audacity of how the stranger had saved her from Kevin's monologue. I can't believe how smooth he was. I bet he's done that before; she thought to herself with a little smile.

"Thank you," she said, glancing up at him as they paused on the sidewalk, enjoying his comforting presence next to her. "I thought I'd be trapped there forever."

The African-American man chuckled, a low, rich sound that made her stomach flutter in a way she hadn't felt in a long time. "I couldn't help but notice you looked like you were dying inside."