While in my early 20s, I lived in Mexico for a few years while I studied a master’s in a field of linguistics. During that time there was a huge house about five blocks from where I lived that had belonged to a drug kingpin, but had been repossessed by the government and then sold to a private investor who had turned it into.l a charter school. One day I saw a sign that said, “English teacher wanted,” and since I could use some extra money, I decided to apply.
I handed in my resume and was immediately taken to an office where I was told I’d meet the principle. A few minutes later, in walks a middle-aged woman with a blouse so low her ample bosoms were barely contained. At the time I was a ver devout yet naive Mormon and I recall during the entirety of the interview studying the ceiling fan because if I looked down all I could see was this woman’s yawning cleavage. (Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to look, but remember ... I was very concerned about morals.)
It turns out the principal was also the investor of The house. She was very wealthy and wanted to learn English to help improve her business acumen. I was hired on the spot and started getting paid WAY too much for teaching 30 mins twice a week. Each class the principal wore blouses that accentuated her ample breasts, and each class I practiced several ways of not looking directly at her breasts—one way was by looking at a big wooden door at the back of the room we held our class in. Knowing the house used to belong to narcos, my imagination would wander about what could be behind such an ornate door: armory? Meth lab a la Walter White? Shark tank?
One day I showed up for class (always held early, before the elementary kids got there in the morning), and principal lady showed up uncharacteristically wearing a baggy hoody. I asked if she was feeling alright and she said she wasn’t really in ya mood to practice English today. I started gathering my things to go, and she said, “We could just talk, if you want.” Seeing my opportunity, I said, “Do you think I could wander around the house for a bit?” She said, “Sure! I’ll give you a tour.” The house was amazing—a main entryway with marble floors and an ornate fountain, a pool in the back (covered and not being used), and lots of rooms that were now decorated like elementary school rooms. She finally said, “I saved my favorite place for last.” We returned to the little classroom we would use and walked over to the ornate wooden door. Finally, I was going to find out what was back there! I’d finally get to see the iron maiden, or the exotic animal room, or whatever it was.
When I walked in I saw the most amazing bathroom I’d ever seen. It was HUGE! There was a large jetted tub in the middle of the room that could easily fit 6-8 people. The color of choice for most of the fixtures was green—it turns out, the two toilets and two sinks were made out of jade. The other thing was there were mirrors everywhere! The principal said, “My favorite is the walk-in closet.” So, innocent me walked in with wide eyes and saw a closet bigger than my room in my parent’s home growing up and it was covered in mirrors. That was when I heard the zipper.
I turned around to see the principal completely blocking the way out. She’s unzipped her hoodie and underneath all she had on was a very skimpy bra that looked like it was holding on for dear life to contaron her breasts. It was the first time I’d see areola in my adult life. I froze. Then I panicked. Everywhere I looked, I saw breasts because of the floor to ceiling mirrors.
The principal talked to me, told me she was very attracted to me, and told me what she wanted to do to me. She told me we could take a trip to her property in the Yucatán and then described everything she wanted to do with me. My innocent Mormon wars had never even conceived of some of the things she said to me. I remember stammering a lot and trying to step past her, but she blocked my path. I finally pushed past her and literally ran home.
When I think about it now, I laugh. I was never te type of guy who got hit on, but there was this attractive, wealthy, buxom woman who had obviously had some elicit thought with me in them. I would periodically see her when I would be walking to the bus stop to go to school. She would drive by in her Mercedes and she never looked at me, even though I always saw her. I wondered if I were the only person to ever turn her down? Anyway, long story short, if that were to happen now (some ideological beliefs and a nasty divorce later), my answer would be a shrug and a YOLO.