Beggars Can Be Choosers

After my wife cheated I moved on. I got off the plane in paradise.

This story, like some of my others, is a slow starter. If you want a quick jerk off, this isn't for you.

Tags: cheating, divorce,, ANR, interracial, impregnation

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My name is Scott Anderson.

I used to be married. Until the day I came home and found my wife being fucked on our kitchen table by a black African guest lecturer. Carmen and I had both taught at one of the top universities in Sydney, Australia. She taught political science, and I taught English literature.

The university had invited a guest lecturer from South Africa to give a series of lectures over a period of one semester. The focus being on the dramatic changes in South African politics, after the end of apartheid.

The university had asked the faculty to express their interest in hosting the lecturer during his stay in Sydney. As we had a three bedroom apartment overlooking Sydney Harbor, Carmen suggested that we were ideally placed to offer to host him. I agreed, so she put our hat in the ring. The university accepted our offer.

Lethabo was about as black as a black man can get. He was also tall, at least six foot four, and he was well built and muscular. He was also good looking, or at least I assumed he would be considered to be good looking by a woman.

About a month into Lethabo's stay with us I had one of my lectures cancelled due to a technical issue with the lecture theater. As there was no other venue available there was no point in me hanging around. So I headed home. As I entered the apartment I could hear Carmen and Lethabo talking in the kitchen, but the conversation did not sound normal. I soon found out why. They were telling each other how much they loved to fuck each other. He had his huge cock all the way inside her. The last words I heard before my mind shut down were, "OOOHH fuck yes, Lethabo, Fill me with your beautiful black cum."

I'm not a big man, and I don't have a violent bone in my body.

To this day I cannot explain what possessed me to leap across the kitchen and punch the man in the jaw. All I know is, I broke three fingers in my hand, and his jaw in two places. While he lay semi-conscious on the kitchen floor, Carmen started to explain herself. "Oh God, I'm so sorry Scott. I don't know what came over me. He was so good looking, and he was so nice to me, I couldn't stop myself. I wanted to know if everything they said about black men was true. Please forgive me Darling."

"Carmen, I ceased to be your Darling as soon as I walked into this kitchen just now. From this day forward I will never again be able to look at you without seeing you with his big black cock buried to the hilt inside you. I will never again be able to look at the kitchen table in this apartment without hearing you beg him to fill you with his cum." I looked at my wife with loathing, "right now, I suggest you stay the fuck out of my way while I gather my things and leave. If you don't, I will not be responsible for what I will do to you."

I packed a couple of suitcases. I pulled our marriage licence out of my briefcase, and placed the licence, my keys to the apartment, and my wedding ring on the kitchen counter. Then I left, with my entire life in two suitcases and a briefcase.

I found a B&B on the other side of Sydney Harbor, and paid the landlady two weeks rent. Then I phoned the faculty HR dept and told them I needed an appointment to see a HR manager as soon as possible.

Two days later I received a phone call. I answered and a voice said, "Hey Professor Anderson, this is Sally from HR. I've managed to get you an appointment for three this afternoon. Can you make that?"

I told her I could. Then I hung up.

At the appointment with HR I stated that due to a domestic emergency I would need to resign my position with the university. I was asked how soon. I told them I could complete the semester if I really needed to, but if they could find a replacement earlier, that would be preferable.

A week later, my phone rang again. "Hey Professor Anderson, It's Sally from HR. The HR department believe they may have found a suitable replacement to finish your semester for you. Can you make an appointment for nine AM next Monday?"

Monday at nine AM I turned up at the HR dept. I was introduced to an attractive young lecturer named Abigail Smith. We shook hands. She looked at me and said, " I understand that you have a need to leave ASAP, but in the interests of your students, would you please consider spending a week with me to help me provide them with a smooth transition."

I told her I would be happy to do that, as I wanted the students to suffer no disadvantage as a result of my problems. "Great, Thank you professor."

"Please. Scott will do."

During the next week I learned that the university had become aware that something untoward had transpired. Of course the fact that our house guest was unable to give his lectures due to a broken jaw was a dead giveaway. I have no idea where they got all their facts from, but after the investigation Lethabo was put on a plane back to South Africa, and his file marked 'never to be invited again'. The next thing I heard was that Carmen had been stood down pending an investigation into her conduct.

At the end of our week of working together I had a short meeting with my replacement, Abigail Smith. I told her that if she needed some more time to transition, I was willing to continue helping her. She told me that she felt confident that she could get all the students through the semester successfully.

I was now free to move on with the next step in my journey. Part one was to get as far away from Sydney as I could, and there were no universities with vacancies at the north pole.

I called a travel agent and booked a flight, one way, to Denpasar, Indonesia.

I had already contacted several Indonesian universities to find out what lecturing positions might be available. All I needed to do now was wait.

When I landed in Bali with my two suitcases and briefcase, I immediately found out two things. Firstly, Indonesia was hot and humid. Secondly, it stunk of a combination of spices and rotting jungle. I was actually surprised. The smell was not totally unpleasant, and you very quickly became accustomed to it.

While in Bali I enjoyed the massage studios, a couple of times a day. I enjoyed Bintang beer several times a day, and I enjoyed a lot of very tasty Indonesian and international cuisine.

About ten days after my arrival in Indonesia my phone rang. When I answered the phone I discovered that I had been offered a job lecturing English at a university in Yogyakarta on the Indonesian island of Java.

I booked a ticket on a flight from Denpasar to Yogyakarta. I soon learned that the locals just call it Jogja to shorten it.

On my arrival there I booked into a hotel for a week. I planned to get myself an apartment, but first I needed to find my way around. Jogja is not a small town. It is a city of almost half a million people. Travelling from one side of the city to the other on a daily basis would get very tiresome very fast.

Once I found where the university was situated I started to look around the area to find out what the apartment situation was. I found a small apartment within commuting distance of the university after five days of searching. I say small, but that is small by Sydney standards. By local standards it was large and lavish. It had two small bedrooms, a combination kitchen and lounge, and a combination bathroom toilet. After inspecting the place I put a six month lease on it.

After moving into the apartment, I furnished it. Double bed in one room, two singles in the other, and no, I have no idea why I did that. It made no sense whatsoever. I guess it is just what I am used to. The kitchen got a small table and two chairs, and the lounge a two seater lounge, and a single armchair. Looking around the place I thought to myself, 'home sweet home'. Then I headed out to find a beer and some lunch.

I had walked about one hundred meters along the street when I saw a sign that said Warung. I knew that this was an eatery. I went in and sat down. A waitress came over and started to talk to me in Indonesian. Using some of the few words I had learned I said to her "Maaf, Bahasa Ingris." which simply meant, sorry, speak English. Another waitress serving a table close by spoke up, "She not speak English, I speak English, Please wait, I will serve you."

I said Thank You, and waited.

After a couple of minutes she came to my table, "My name is Yanti, what would you like?"

I told her I wanted a beer, and some chicken Mie Goreng.

She brought me the beer, and said the Mie Goreng would be a few minutes, and did I want it hot, medium, or mild.

I told her I don't mind a bit of hot food, so make it hot.

Yanti looked at me a little skeptically, "Are you sure?" she asked

I nodded. "Ok" she said, and left

When the meal arrived, I thanked her, and dug in. The first forkful had only been in my mouth for about three seconds when I realized my mistake. Warungs are where many locals eat. Their version of hot and ours are extremely different. My tongue and lips started to burn. And the burn got progressively worse as more of the spices from the food spread out over my mouth. I guzzled the entire bottle of beer, and still my mouth burned. I started to sweat profusely. I was in big trouble.

Yanti appeared at my elbow, "Here Mister, you eat quick." She handed me a bowl and spoon.

I scoffed down the entire bowlful. It was a combination of something similar to yogurt, with chopped up cucumber in it. The burning in my mouth finally became bearable. "Hey Mister, You funny, what your name?"

"Scott."

"I am sorry Mister Scott, I should have warned you." She said, "I will take this away and get you mild. After you get taste for mild, then you do medium, OK?"

I nodded my thanks. Yanti picked up the Mie Goreng and took it away. Then brought me another beer.

Over the next couple of weeks Yanti and I became quite good friends. She taught me many Indonesian words. She told me about her husband and her three children, and she taught me a bit about Indonesian culture. Going to the warung for my meals and beer became a daily occurrence.

One morning I was at the warung having my first cup of coffee for the day. It was still quite early, and the street was not yet a hive of activity.

I saw a young woman slowly making her way past the warung. She was carrying a small child. The child was probably only a year old or a bit more. She looked into the warung, spent a couple of seconds looking at me, then continued on her way. Yanti said from beside me, "Beggars," Jogja has many of them."

I looked up at her, "Yanti, have you never been in need of help."

"Yes, but...."

"No Yanti, but nothing." I said, "there may be a very good reason why that woman is in trouble."

I was surprised the next day when I saw the same woman again, since I had never seen her prior to the day before. Again she looked at me. I waved my fingers to invite her to come to my table. She looked at the interior of the warung nervously, then shook her head. "Please Mister Scott," Yanti said from behind me, "Do not invite beggars into warung, boss will get very angry."

"Yanti, while I pay the bill, I am boss." I said, a little irritated. " Please go tell her I do not enjoy eating alone. I want her to come and eat with me."

Yanti looked at me, "Mister Scott, Boss will kick her out, and he has big feet."

"Yanti, GO, NOW." I said angrily.

Yanti scurried out the door. I watched the brief exchange between Yanti and the beggar. The girl looked very apprehensive, but then hesitantly followed Yanti back into the warung.

"Mister Scott, You get Yanti into trouble I will not like you very much." Yanti said.

"Yanti, you just did what your customer ordered you to do. Boss cannot be angry at you."

I turned to the girl, she looked at me nervously. "Please, sit." I said, indicating the chair next to me.

Yanti spoke to her in Indonesian, hesitantly the girl sat down. I said to her in the little bit of Indonesian I had learned, "Nama Saya Scott." my name is Scott

In a tiny, soft voice, she replied, "Nama saya Anita."

"Yanti, tell her I said Anita is a very beautiful name. Ask her what her baby is called?"

After Yanti translated, the girl smiled at me shyly, then said "Anak bernama Adi."

Yanti translated for me, "Her baby is named Adi."

"Excellent, Please ask her what she and Adi would like to eat."

"She asks if she could please have Nasi Goreng with eggs."

"Sounds good, I will have the same, Thank you Yanti." I said,

"Oh, and Yanti, coffee for me, and whatever she would like for her and Adi."

A little while later Yanti brought out two plates of fried rice with fried eggs on top, and a pot of coffee, and a glass of orange juice. When Yanti picked up the coffee pot Anita rapidly spoke to her.

Yanti set the pot back down and walked away. Anita stood up and picked up the coffee pot. She poured my coffee for me, then gave me a shy smile. I looked up at her, "Terima kasih, Now, eat." I said gesturing for her to sit down and eat. We ate in silence, with Anita relishing the food, and regularly giving small bits of the egg to Adi. We had almost finished eating when the owner of the warung arrived, first he berated Yanti, then he made his way across the warung headed for my table.

I stood and faced him. Angrily I barked, "Would you insult a paying customer by not showing respect to my guests?" I glared at him, and he seemed to get the message.

"I am sorry Mister, I mistook your guest for a beggar we have seen in this area. Maaf, my apologies"

"Thank you, now, leave us to eat our meal in peace." I said, "Oh, and apologize to Yanti also, you berated her for no good reason."

As he walked back out to the back of the warung I heard him quietly say to Yanti, "Maaf, kesalahanku."

Yanti came over to the table to clear away dishes, "Thank you Mister Scott."

"Ok, Yanti, What did he say to you?"

"He said, Sorry, my mistake."

"Good. If he says anything bad to you, I want you to tell me. You are a good worker, you look after his warung, and his customers."

"Yanti, you say Anita is a beggar, where does she live?"

"Like many beggars, she would live under a tarpaulin down near the wasteland."

"Why is she in this situation?"

After a brief exchange Yanti told me Anita had been married, but her husband left her for a younger prettier girl, who didn't have a baby to look after.

"Yanti, ask Anita if she would look after my apartment and do a little cooking for us, in exchange for a place for her and Adi to live."

"Are you sure?" Yanti asked.

"Yes."

Yanti briefly spoke to Anita. Anita looked at me suspiciously. "Yanti, Tell her I have an apartment on this street, only three minutes walk from here. It has two bedrooms, one bedroom for her and Adi, and the other bedroom for me. Yanti translated what I had said. Still looking at me suspiciously Anita said something back to Yanti, and Yanti said something back to her.

"She asks me if I think you are a good man, and asks if I think she can trust you." Yanti said,

"I have told her that I believe you are a good man, and that I would trust you myself."

"Thank you Yanti, that means a lot to me."

I took a serviette off the table and took a pen out of my pocket. I wrote down the address of my apartment and gave it to Yanti. "In case you want to check up on her, if she chooses to trust me."

Yanti again spoke to Anita. "I will see you later Yanti." I said.

I stood up, and prepared to leave the warung. Anita stood also, and when I walked out the door, she followed me.

I continued until I reached the building where my apartment was located. I did not make any effort to see whether Anita would choose to follow or not, that was now her choice to make.

When I entered the apartment she was behind me. She looked around the place in awe. Like I said earlier, by Sydney standards it was small, but here it was well above what the average worker could afford. I led the way to the spare room and opened the door. "Anita and Adi." I indicated that she should follow me. I walked down to my room and opened my door. Indicating inside I said, "Scott."

Again I indicated the twin room and said, "Anita and Adi." then indicated my room, "Scott."

I guess she accepted that I was genuine, walked into the twin room, and sat on the bed. A little tear trickled down her cheek, "Terema Kasih." she said, meaning thank you.

Over the next few days I bought some clothes for her and for Adi, and also a few other things that I thought she might need, like baby soap, shampoo, conditioner, toothbrushes and other bathroom things.

One day about six weeks after Anita moved into the apartment I was walking down the street next to the one I lived on and a woman in the markets there offered me a massage. I had not enjoyed a massage since I left Bali so thought it would take some of the kinks out of my back.

Normally when I get back to the apartment Anita will chatter away to me, a little of it I understand, much of it I don't and sometimes I will remember some of it so Yanti can translate it for me later.

When I got home after my massage Anita did not speak to me. She did not speak to me for the rest of the day, or in the morning. I wondered what was up.

I used to go to the warung for breakfast and coffee, but since Anita moved in she has always made breakfast and coffee in the little kitchen in the apartment. At lunch time I said to Anita, "warung to eat." She stood up and followed me to the warung. As soon as we got there I spoke to Yanti, "I don't know what is wrong, Anita has not spoken to me since yesterday."

Yanti had a brief conversation with Anita. Then she turned to me, "You offended her."

"WHAT? How did I do that?"

"Did you go to a woman on the street for a massage, or something else?"

"I went for a massage, yesterday, why?"

"Why did you not go to Anita?"

"Because I did not want to offend her" I said, "Our deal was that she do some cooking, and keep the apartment. Taking care of my personal needs was not part of what I asked from her."

"Silly man, Mister Scott." Yanti said, "You give her a home, you feed and clothe her and her baby, you look after her better than her husband ever did, in fact better than most Indonesian husbands ever would. Yet you ask nothing of her in return. Then you go to a woman on the street to take care of you. Anita feels that you do not want her. She feels that she is not good enough for you."

"Oh shit, I offended her by not wanting to offend her."

"That is just about right." Yanti said, "There is nothing she would not give you, including her body."

"You mean she would willingly have..."

"Not just willingly. She would happily share her body with you. If only you would ask her to."

I looked at Anita, then slowly reached out and took her hand. "Yanti, if I get this wrong, can you translate for me."

"Of course."

"Anita?" she was looking across the warung, not at me, "Anita, look at me."

"Lihatlah Dia." Yanti said sternly.

Slowly Anita turned her head and looked at me, I could see the sadness in her eyes.

"Anita, Maaf! Kamu Cantik! Aku Mau Kamu!"

I watched tears well up in her eyes.

"My apologies! you are beautiful! I want you! Mister Scott that does not need translating." Yanti said.

I looked at Anita, a tear was rolling down each of her cheeks. I know Indonesians are not big on public shows of affection but this time I could not help it. I lent forwards and kissed the tears off her cheeks. "Aku Mau Kamu." I whispered.

"Mister Scott, I think you must now make your words into action" Yanti said to me, " I will look after Adi here until you return."