Beneath the Surface: A Teacher's Descent into a Secret World of Sex and Debauchery

I am a first year teacher at a poor urban school. The administration is unsupportive, the kids are delinquents, their parents don’t care, and I’m started to get burned out with teaching. Despite the insanity of working at this school, nothing has surprised me more than my white, middle class coworkers. While maintaining the external appearance of sweet, church-going women, they are secretly slutty, cheating, uncontrollably horny nymphomaniacs. This is my story of how I became subsumed in their underground culture of sex and perversion:

My first few weeks at the school were fairly normal (crazy and hectic). The other teachers, mostly attractive white women from their late 20s to mid 40s, treated me with respect. It was a feeling out period on a number of different levels. They wanted to see how I taught, how I could control the kids, and surreptitiously whether or not I would fit into their environment sexually. Questions I found a little weird became much more obvious after my introduction.

“So…you’re married, huh?”

“Yes, for six years.”

“How’s your sex life?”

I laughed uncomfortably, “pretty good, I guess.”

“Just pretty good? There’s always room for improvement…”


Strange.


“So…do you like to party?”

“Yeah. My husband and I got a little crazy sometimes in college.”

“Ever party without him?”

“Not really, unless it’s just hanging out with my girlfriends.”

“We always have a lot of fun when we leave our hubbies at home…”


After a month, they started inviting me out for drinks at the bar or dancing at the club. They liked to get a lot wilder than I expected. Drinking and dancing was never really my scene, but it was nice to have friends at work so I always went along. My husband was a little jealous of all the time I spent away from home, but he understood my need for girl time.

My colleagues slowly began exerting peer pressure during out clubbing adventures. It came mostly from my grade-level team teachers, with whom I had grown most close in my month at the school. Fiona was a very straightforward, fiery little redhead; Kristen was a long, tall blonde with the features of a model. Fiona took me aside on our second trip to the club.

“Ya know, you dress so professionally at the school…”

“Thank you,” I interrupted.

“Yeah… But we’re not at the school anymore. This isn’t a PTA meeting, it’s supposed to be fun!”

“I should lose the sweater?”

“You look like my grandmother! Lose the sweater, lose the slacks, and put on something short and tight.”

“But it’s not like I’m trying to hook up with someone…”

“It’s for you, not some guy. When you look good, you feel good.”

I could see the logic behind it. Why dress like I’m 80 when I have the body of a 22 year old?

“Thanks, Fiona.”


The next weekend I went shopping with my husband. Now that I was earning a nice paycheck, I didn’t mind blowing a little on new clothes.

“Isn’t that skirt a little shorter than you normally like? And that’s a really tight shirt.”

“Blouse,” I corrected.

“Tight blouse, whatever,” my husband responded.

“I don’t know…I just like how it looks on me.” (I wanted to fit in with the girls, who dress this way outside of school.)

“Alright, I just want you to wear what makes you happy. And you look pretty damn sexy.”

“Thanks, babe.”


It went on like that every weekend. It seemed like nothing I bought was sexy enough to match what the other teachers wore. I would come to the bar in a pair of nice shorts with a six inch inseam and a tight top; they would be wearing skirts that showed their asses and blouses with plunging necklines. I was at the mall twice a week picking out more daring outfits. By

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THE END