A hands on kind of leader...

Tuesday December 08, 2020

Darla’s lower lip quivered as she looked at the photo, her hand rose up to her mouth and covered it to avoid the scream that would otherwise have emerged from her lips.

Dropping her phone on the table and pushing it away from her, she placed her face in her hands and started to cry. She didn’t stop for several hours, but managed to get herself cleaned up before going to bed and sleeping in the fetal position for the entire night.

* * *

“Hey Darla, what’s wrong?” the familiar voice of her neighbor called out as she closed the door to her apartment.

She looked up to see Randy doing the same, “What? Oh… ah… nothing.” she replied, unable to convince herself she had no hope of convincing him.

“Come on, we’ve lived beside each other for over a year now. Something is up, give.” he said, catching up to her easily as she headed towards the elevator.

“I… well… I don’t want to talk about it.” she managed to get out, holding back another round of tears as the image from her phone resurfaced once again in her mind.

“Well, ok, but if you do you know where I live.” he said as the elevator doors closed and they were taken down to the lobby. It was a short enough trip and she bolted out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened, leaving him behind.

“Have a good day!” Randy called as she left the building and headed towards the subway to get to work.

* * *

Darla stared at her phone, willing herself not to cry and instead try and find any detail that might explain what the image was. She could see her tattoo on her left forearm, a stupid mistake during a drunken night in Vegas, that she always kept covered up. Likewise there was some kind of design on the, well she guessed it was a ring, on her left index finger, but beyond that there was little else she could garner from the image.

Well, little else than she looked like some kind of sex object of course. She’d never worn her hair that long, and her breasts… well, they weren’t that large. Likewise her waist was tiny, which she wasn’t fat by any means, but the image didn’t reflect her reality. But it was her face in the image that shook her the most. She’d never been a heavy makeup wearer, and this image made her look like she’d put on enough for a night out and all she was doing was lying around the house! In lingerie!

It had to be some kind of mistake, even if it was clearly her. She swiped back to the main screen of the app and tapped on the “Help” button, but after two hours of begging them to be wrong only resulted in a second picture being sent that was worse than the first.

In it she was still on the floor, but her ass was higher up, her face twisted in ecstasy as a man held on to her hair tightly and entered her from behind. She couldn’t’ see the man’s face, but did it really matter? FuturePic was never wrong, and this was the result when you suggested otherwise.

She curled up and went to bed, not knowing what to do next.


It had been two months since she’d gotten her FuturePic and Darla had come to terms with it, somewhat at least. Sure, it was going to happen, but that didn’t mean it was going to happen soon. It could be another four years or more before, well, whatever sent her down that path came up.

But she did need to talk to someone about it, and since she’d moved to the city just over a year ago, she didn’t have any family and few friends. Which was why she was sitting in a booth at a coffee shop across from Randy.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” he asked.

She hesitated for a second before answering, “Well. I want to show you something and see if you think I’m completely screwed or not.”

He raised an eyebrow as she unlocked her phone and pushed it across the table to him, the FuturePic on the display.

She saw the desire flare up in his eyes as soon as he saw it, “Holy shit Darla… is this your FuturePic?”

“Yeah… and I guess your reaction kinda tells me everything I needed to know.” she replied and let out a sigh.

“No… I mean… yeah… but that doesn’t mean your screwed… at least I don’t think so.”

“Oh?”

“Well take a look at the furniture behind you, that stuff looks expensive. And look how much space is just empty in the room, that place must be huge! Whoever owns that place must be loaded, and that’s not all bad is it?”

She gave Randy a smile, “Well, that is looking on the bright side of things I guess.”

“Yeah…” he replied and suddenly sunk back in to his seat a little as a frown crossed his lips.

“Hey, now who’s the gloomy Gus?” she said with a half smile.

“Well… I… I don’t know if I should show you this…” he said pulling out his phone and unlocking it before sliding it across to her.

It was his own FuturePic, in it he was standing in a large bedroom, a woman was bent over the edge of the bed in a white wedding dress with the skirt flipped up over her back obstructing the view of her face.

It took her a minute to understand why Randy was showing her the picture, and then it click. Clearly visible were her arms, a tattoo clear as day on her left forearm. The same tattoo that was on her own forearm.

“You.. you knew?” she sputtered over the table at him.

“What? NO! I mean, yeah I knew I was going to be married and live in a big house, but I didn’t know it was you! I mean, I’ve never seen your tattoo before!”

Her mouth fell open in horror as she realized he was right, he’d probably never seen her tattoo uncovered, she couldn’t blame him for any of this. Then a nagging little voice in the back of her head forced her to speak.

“Randy… how long… how long have you had this FuturePic and how long is it for?”

Randy sunk back in to his seat even farther, “Ah… almost four years. It’s a five year FuturePic.” he admitted.

Her jaw dropped even farther open as the realization that she’d be married, a trophy wife, in a little over a year from now.

“But… but your not rich… are you?”

“Well, I just found out that the patent litigation I’ve been pursing has been settled… for 130 million… so… yeah, I guess I am?”

Darla’s shoulders slumped and her lower lip quivered as it all hit her at once. Then, something just clicked in her mind.

She slipped out from the booth and stood up, extending her hand to Randy and clapping it in the air, “Come on, let’s go.”

Randy looked confused, “Go? Go where?”

She rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh, “Look, if I’m going to be your bimbo trophy wife, then there’s no point in wasting any more time. We’re going back to my place and you’re going to fuck me the best you can so I know what I’m going to have to put up with for the next six years.”

Randy quickly slipped out from behind the table add took her hand as she nearly dragged him from the coffee shop back towards their building. She might be stuck being the trophy wife in her FuturePic, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t do it on her own terms. And if that meant making sure that Randy wanted to fuck her six ways to Sunday so she could keep him under her thumb, well, that was what she was going to do.

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