Something’s telling me my new tutor doesn’t keep his study guides upstairs. That’s my thinking. Always thinking…except now I’m kinda blank, if you absolutely must know. I’m not sure what to expect, exactly, as he pulls me up the metal stairs. I don’t think “Math-Nazi” has equations in mind. This fucker has his big-ass finger hooked through the metal ring on the collar around my neck and he is yanking me along like some lame sick puppy or something. I can hear the dude’s big black boots hit those hard stairs and I’m just trying to keep up and stay cool. I can see his furry ass through those leather chaps as he hits each tread and I’m stumbling along in my jockstrap and my new Adidas’. This fuckers like the Green Giant’s “evil twin” or some shit. Only he ain’t wearin’ no freakin’ green leaves.

Ok. I know what you’re thinking: I smoked the dude’s pole. Like, that may be, but he didn’t exactly give me a choice in the matter, if you must know. And yeah, I did pop a boner. And yeah, I’m still sportin’ some wood. I don’t know, maybe it’s all that leather or something. Truth is, it wasn’t half bad. Just remember, this is all strictly confidential. I am so totally not kidding.

Anyhoo, we get to the top of the stairs and I see that it’s his bedroom. Only thing is you won’t believe what he sleeps on. No, you will totally not believe this. First thing I see hanging in the middle of his bedroom is this, like, swing or hammock or something. There are four heavy chains holding up these leather straps, or something, all woven together. I am so not kidding! No mattress or nothing. Not even a nightstand. I don’t see how the fucker sleeps on that thing. No wonder he’s all mad and shit. At least there is a pillow and, yeah, you guessed it, it’s black leather too. At the foot of his “bed” hanging from the chains are these two, like, leather loops attached up high for hanging clothes on or something. Dude must have stock in some leather factory or some shit.

“Stand right there and don’t move a muscle, bitch.”

“Ah…no sir,” I say all polite like. At this point, I’m not so much as thinking about passing algebra as I am about not pissing off my hard-ass tutor.

So there I am, butt-nekkid except for my jock strap, my fine footwear and this freakin’ collar around my neck. I look around again. This dude doesn’t believe in wasting electricity, I guess, because it’s kinda dark upstairs. I can see one other piece of furniture up against the far wall. I guess that’s his dresser or something. The thing is, it’s more like a kind of tall tool chest, all silver metal and shit and he’s opened one of the drawers to rummage around. Well, I guess if you sleep on a leather hammock you don’t go for French provincial. And yes, smart ass, I know what French provincial is; my parent’s house is full of the shit. Only thing is, the dresser and that hammock are not the freakiest things in the room. Not by a total long-shot. Hanging on the wall next