💋UPDATE: Thank you to all the interested publishers and agents! Please email your inquires to [email protected] 💰🙏
Enjoy THIS NEW CHAPTER: THE MIND OF AN ADDICTED
TRADER -- from my new novel: H E D G E D
She gets involved in the hedge fund world when she falls for the wrong guy — and things go awry. Quickly.
copyright: Citygirl Juliana Kisses!! 💋
“There is in every one of us, even those who seem to be most moderate, a type of desire that is terrible, wild, and lawless.” -Plato
FOR CHAPTER ONE CLICK HERE:
By the time I get home, the money’s already there. It’s Sunday night, and I can’t trade anything other than crypto. So I start. I sit down at my desk, cue my systems on, put my lucky red bandana around my head and go to work.
I pull up every ticker, and watch the numbers flashing. Crypto was a good habit. The best in fact. It never stopped trading. And the volume was always high. Catch a good wave and it was better than sex.
Better than sex, better than fucking anything…
I pick up my mouse and stare at my screen. Coins in every name in every size flash across my screen. I was a big fan of Ethereum Classic, it traded mostly like a stock. The chart looked fantastic, it was bucking against the upper trendline after consolidating for about 10 days and ready to take off. My timing couldn’t be better.
My excitement mounts, my mind works like a machine… and I start to put my orders in. I go in small at first, picking up 5,000 shares at 55. I remember how this was trading at 8 only a few months ago. It’s been on a tear, hitting a high of almost 100.
Come on – give it to me. Fill me…Right here…My heart races. Adrenaline burns through my bloodstream.
A message pops up: “You bought 5,000 shares ETC, $55.”
It starts going up. Fast, 57… 58.40…. 59.10… I’m in it and buying more and the rush is incredible.
I couldn’t remember the last time I sat at my desk and actually traded.
Traded my own account.
Had power over my own money.
My own destiny.
My own peace of mind.
I sit in front of the three 30” screens transfixed.
Lights flash in green and red. The market is alive… it has a pulse. My hand slides smoothly over the mouse as easily as Adam took the apple from Eve, and I pick up more. I was so skilled at discovering patterns in the market’s daily ebb and flow, I was rarely wrong.
ETC keeps climbing and everything is a blur. I’m moving at warp speed, thinking so fast, working so fast, I can barely breathe. Or maybe I’m breathing for the first time. Maybe this is what it’s like to feel alive.
ETC climbs higher and I’m a higher than a fucking kite. The rip is so good… it’s epic. I’m up 35% in the first hour. I want to let it ride… but I need to clock profit…
It’ll go higher, my inner voice says. It’ll double.
I stare into my screens in awe, a dizzying narcotic blur of numbers and charts. My blinds are closed; there are no reminders that a real world of duty or drudgery exists beyond my seductive cocoon.
You’ll be sitting here on a million dollar account within the hour…
No, my other side argues, crypto is volatile, the gains are fleeting. Clock profit, clock profit. But volatility, my other side argues, is how the real money is made.
I keep buying.
ETC.X keeps going higher. Excitement races through me like fire. My heart pounds with increasing speed. I check the message boards: “Nothing greater than being an ETC bull. Stay the course, people, DIAMOND HANDS!! DO NOT SELL! When I saw the price, MY hard on just knocked over the table!”
The message boards have gotten stranger and stranger, I click off and stare back at the chart.
I’m not sure how many hours have passed after this.
I’m trading all through the night, and the last time I saw the clock it read 3:00 a.m. I remember that it’s Monday and I have to go to work, but now I’m up over two million dollars, this thing is on a tear, and I couldn’t, wouldn’t tear myself away from the screen.
I keep watching, and I want to run, scream, jump up and down, jump off a building, I don’t know. I needed something to keep this adrenaline going. I didn’t know how, but I needed to do something rash.
For a second, the rush is gone. I am staring at four million dollars now and I know I can double it to 8.
I know I can.
You’re fucking crazy.
And then it all starts to go south.
As it always does.
My throat thickens as reality grips me. I intuitively check the indexes, the whole market is turning. For a second, I’m held in a vise of the most paralyzing shock. I average down more and use up the rest of my money, and then I go on margin.
But everything is still dropping.
I say a prayer.
And then another.
ETC starts to go up and I sell into the momemtum… Smaller lots to not crack it in half. But the volume is huge and I know my trades mean nothing.
I hear Monique’s voice coming through my answering machine next: “It’s 9:13, Jolette! Where are you?!”
The stock market opened and I realize I traded through the morning research meeting. I think I rode out some Bitcoin and when the real market opened, I decided to go all in on the miners.
Why fucking not?
I have plenty of cash now and am still holding the bag on SOS. I have 200,000 SOS at an average of 11.12 and it was trading at 3. It’s been stuck here for over three months. I couldn’t stand the mother fucking thing. I wanted to trade around it, out of it, get my money back, show everybody WHO’S BOSS.
So I cash out of the Bitcoin and the crypto positions. My account is at $4,030,882. I stare at the numbers. I’m in awe. I’m on fire. I feel bigger than God.
But for some reason, the feeling goes away …. Fast.
I buy in SOS. First I plow in with 200,000 shares to get my average down. I watch as the stock trades sideways… come on… come on…
And then it starts to tick up. 2.80… 2.96… My average is still over 5.00.
If this follows on the tailwinds of crypto, it will run. Crypto had a blazing run last night – this should be no fucking different…. LET’S GO PEOPLE…! LET’S GO!
I can hear my phone ringing. I ignore it.
My cat comes up onto my desk, nudging against my arm. He’s hungry. He needs to eat.
I ignore him too.
I watch, wait, can’t peel my eyes away… I double in again, buy another 200,000 shares… I just want to get my average down farther…
That’s all I want…
And within the next four hours I’m trading all around this stock. Selling my cheaper positions against the higher ones and clocking cash. Which sort of fucks me because my average remains high. I try to sell on the way up, but my bags are so large – I have pieces as high as 15, it takes forever to put a dent into this colossal disaster of a trade gone awry.
But then I say fuck it. I bet the house, go long 600,000 shares and I didn’t realize now, I’m on margin. Once the margin money hits, there’s no stopping it and I keep buying more and keep trading and the numbers are moving so quickly, and the next thing you know, the stock hits the high of the day of 7.50 and starts to move down.
Like a snow plow, falling off a cliff.
My money starts to evaporate before my eyes.
First I’m down $300,400… then the loss turns into $440,882, the loss is multiplying so fast there is no time to even clear out of the way of this falling knife.
I need to wait, wait for a bottom, or until it stabilizes, but there seems to be none in sight.
I can feel my heart racing. My arms are getting sweaty. My breath is quick, and I feel like I can’t catch it.
I’m now down 1,500,333 and I get up. I walk away. Fuck. That SOS was always a piece of shit.
Why did I get caught up in trading this again?
Why couldn’t I just accept the loss and let it go?
No. I will win.
I sit back down at my desk.
I watch. I wait.
There’s something in losing money that feels so familiar to me.
You really are a useless, worthless piece of shit.
The stock stabilizes and I try to buy more.
But I realize I’m out of margin money.
I’m all in and this thing is dropping.
I am not sure what to do. Sell and take the hit or pray.
I do the latter
As my head tells me, Noel never loved you. He’s leaving you, he’s going to New York…
I watch as the stock drops more.
You really couldn’t hold on to him.
He didn’t want you.
He never wanted you.
He never loved you.
It was all a game.
I pick up my mouse, my hands shaking.
I feel like I’m about to cry… or scream… or run… or faint. I need water or juice, or something in my stomach.
I can’t remember the last time I ate.
Let alone ate a real meal.
I feel so alone and isolated.
I want to fucking die.
* * *
I’m on the floor in my bathroom. I got a margin call. I blew all the fucking money. I lost everything. I can’t even remember the balance. SOS went from 7 back down to 1.91 in a matter of three hours.
Who the fuck knows what happened this time?
But I was done.
I had nothing.
I was nothing.
Without my money, without my trading, I couldn’t survive. I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t cope with life.
I’m holding a bottom of pills in my hand. I can hear my cat meowing but I am not sure where he is. I am dizzy and think I have thrown up. I can’t remember. I stare at the lights at the overhead ceiling and if I concentrated long enough, I can only see white and pretend I am in heaven.
I open the bottle and there’s only a few more pills left. I take them but I can’t swallow them. My mouth is so dry. I haul myself up by my hands and knees and lean over the sink and turn on the faucet. I run the water and put my hand under it and splash water into my mouth.
I fall back onto the floor.
And wait for escape.
* * *
To see some of the losses and trades, click here:
* * *
For Chapter One click here:
* * *
For Chapter Two click here:
* * *
H E D G E D
@copyright Citygirl Juliana Jones 💕💋
💋HERE’s ANOTHER RANDOM CHAPTER — Being in love with the wrong guy
copyright: Citygirl Juliana Kisses!! 💋
There are certain moments in life that are unforgettable. This was one of those moments. I was getting home from Wimbledon with clients. The trip was off the hook, first class tickets, ten top hedge funds, staying at 45 Park Lane in London, five star restaurants, limousines, nightlife, clubs, the tennis match. Drunk morning, noon and night. We were flying home on the fourth of July. I was spent, done. I told everyone the plane was packed and I spaced out our seats accordingly on the flight. I absolutely couldn’t handle them any more. All it became was do this for the clients, do that for the clients. Sometimes in life, the price tag becomes too high.
My nerves were shattered. I couldn’t fathom another ounce of booze in my body. I watched as cocktail after cocktail passed by me via the stewardess on the flight home going to this client, that client. It was a morning flight. Really?
I stopped asking questions.
It was a game of musical chairs.
When would the music stop?
* * *
I got home and it was the height of the holiday, party after party for the 4th and Noel was working late. I needed to see him. I needed to be with him. I needed to be able to stop long enough and breathe.
I called him and he was at work. He was busy, he said, filling out some paperwork, who knows, new accounts, something, he was never that detailed with me. Can you meet me at your place? I asked.
“I’m working, I just told you,” he repeated.
And there was something in my voice. A need. Almost a desperation. “Please Noel.”
“What’s wrong, Jolette?” he asked, his voice rising, I can hear the annoyance in it at my simple plea. “Did the trip go well?”
“The trip went fine,” I reply. I don’t need to tell him, all the men we met, all the homes we ended up partying in. My client who NEEDED to get to Wimbledon was a female, prior Harvard graduate and she had friends galore in London. And she was single. It was easier when they were married, trust me. Though even married, they were up to no good, but they kept it more private. This was in your face, over the top, we’re gonna have a good time. I swear I could still hear the music in my head, those drunk voices, loud wasted voices. Even I got caught up in it. I couldn’t lie. I started to feel like a garbage disposal, and I couldn’t fill it with enough trash.
I didn’t cheat on Noel. There was no one who fulfilled me more than him. No one who satisfied me the way he did. Every guy I met, it would just be like having a hamburger, knowing that at home, you always had a steak waiting for you. I wouldn’t cheapen myself like that. Could I close my eyes and pretend someone else was Noel?
Yes, I could.
But I wouldn’t.
I wouldn’t because it was a choice that I made and when you land on something sacred, I felt it was best to try to keep it sacred.
At least for as long as you could.
And I wondered when Noel would start to drift away. There comes a point in every relationship, when two people are so close, so intertwined, so intermeshed, that you couldn’t for a second, be able to breathe the same air in, if they were not beside you. That’s what it became like with Noel.
That’s why I think this trip became so unbearable.
I’ve taken so many trips before with clients: Kentucky Derby, LA for the Oscar parties, Florida for Basil; all the top trips, and they were fine. But during this trip, I really missed Noel.
And all I could think about was getting back to him.
“Noel… I just….” I could hear my voice crack. I felt like I was begging him. And for a moment, I was. “Please Noel… I’m so tired, can you just meet me back at your place?”
The longest pause of my fucking life.
“Okay,” he said, and he clicked off.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, I am standing outside of his home, ringing his bell. I had just enough time to go home and shower, but I put on white sweat pants and a t shirt, and I didn’t wear any makeup.
I wasn’t in the mood.
I couldn’t fathom “the act,” for another second. I just couldn’t.
When he opened the door, he looked me over, and I could see it in his eyes – his own eyes reflected back my own image – I was tired. Spent. Somehow this was the beginning of the end.
“Hi,” he says, a small smile curving on his lips.
And he knows exactly how I feel right now. Exactly.
He’s been here a thousand times.
He knows what it’s like when your head is still spinning, spinning, spinning. He tells me to come in and he lies back down on his couch. He didn’t change from work and he’s all dressed up, even though it is a Sunday; crisp white Oxford shirt, the cufflinks, his initials in navy blue. Money. He always looks like money. Class.
I smell his faint cologne; Egoist, as he takes me in his arms. The TV is not on, there is no food in front of him, he must have just walked in the door.
On the couch, I put my leg over his and rest my head on his chest.
I’ve never done this before.
I’ve never just sat with Noel. We’d come together, we’d fuck, it was fast, furious, sometimes slow, but always a spectacle, a show, each time better than the last. It was like a sport with us.
But now it was different.
It was as if the game was in its final quarter.
And somebody’s gonna win.
And somebody’s gonna lose.
I don’t know why I felt so ill at ease. I don’t know if I was just tired of the job, or tired of this charade, or tired of our relationship, and did I simply want more from him now?
There comes a point in every relationship, where you can be as close as two people can be, and then one has to make that leap of faith. Where are we? Where do you see us going? Are we going to be together forever?
I am not sure why I never have or could ask Noel these questions.
Maybe I always just knew his answer.
You are here with me now, and like everything in life, we must move on.
I couldn’t bear to hear those words from him.
But I could feel them.
I could feel them and he wasn’t even saying them.
I sat still on his chest, almost afraid to breathe. It felt good there in his arms. So comfortable and so safe, and I knew I would never, ever feel like that with anyone again.
How do we know these things in life?
We just do.
I didn’t want him to let me go.
What if I told him this?
How would he react?
He already knows, the little voice inside my head told me.
He tried to get up, to move away from me.
I grabbed him tighter.
He felt it.
“Jolette,” he begins…
No Noel, don’t say it.
“Are you okay?” he asks, putting it on me.
Of course, putting it all on me.
What does he want me to say? The truth?
Noel where do we stand, what’s going to happen with us? How many times are we going to manipulate these stocks? How many people are we going to fuck over? How much money do we need to make to be happy?!
I wanted to say all these things.
But he knew.
Our business was such that you couldn’t quantify feelings into words. We were playing in a numbers game. We existed in figures. The figures told the story. It didn’t matter what you felt.
Feelings were fleeting.
Numbers were facts.
Money was proof.
Proof was we were on top of our game.
And if you let the cracks show first, you’re going to combust.
And the feeling…
That feeling, which has been there all along,
Was that it was all going to combust.
I didn’t know how.
And I didn’t know when.
But I knew when it did arrive, it wouldn’t be pretty. Relationships would be torn, people would be wrecked, money would go up in flames.
Isn’t that the allure? I asked myself.
Isn’t that why I got in this business all along?
You knew what you were doing.
You knew exactly what you were doing.
There’s a quick pause, followed by a curt, “Yeah?”
And he doesn’t want to hear it. He knows what I’m going to say. He knows what’s in my head and he knows what’s coming.
I look into his eyes.
And all I see is his fear.
His fear. Which has been there all along, but it’s hidden. He hides everything greatly.
But now I’m seeing through the façade.
Noel is merely another cog on this rung.
And when the shit starts to cave in… it’s every man for himself.
* * *
H E D G E D
@copyright Citygirl Juliana Jones 💕💋
HOW I BLEW UP TRADING APPLE OPTIONS!!
copyright: Citygirl Juliana
Thank you to all my fans who read my article:
How I Blew Up Trading Apple Options 🍏🍏🍏🍏 !!!
To read that article, scroll down to the bottom and click.
* * *
@copyright Citygirl Juliana Jones 💕💋
All rights reserved. No part of this website may be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission from the author, except by reviewers who may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review in a newspaper, magazine, or electronic publication; nor may any part of this book be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or other, without written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and occurrences herein are the product of the author's imagination. Though real life locations feature as settings throughout the work, the incidents that occur herein are exclusively fictional. Any similarity in characters or events to real life people, living or dead, or actual occurrences, are coincidental.
Copyright, Juliana 2019