SHE DAYTRADES AND THEN TASTES LATTES AROUND THE WORLD!!!
Enjoy CHAPTER ONE from my new Wall Street Novel: HEDGED !!!
copyright: Citygirl Juliana Kisses!! 💋
This is a story about a girl who got in way too deep on Wall Street…
It’s written for every trader out there who has ever lost money in the market.
I’ve been there.
“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.”
- P L A T O, The Republic
I step off the G650. I can feel my heart pounding through my white $2,000 silk Hermes blouse. Clients in tow, I smile, keeping the game face, one step ahead of the game.
Always one step ahead of the game.
I know this is the end.
These clients are going down in the biggest Wall Street stock manipulation scheme in world history.
“Whoever has the leverage has the power,” I remind myself, entering the driveway of the two billion dollar compound on a private island in the middle of the Black Sea.
And I have it now.
And then I can’t help but think of him. Noel Sheffield. The man who took me under his wing and taught me the real ropes of Wall Street. Not analysis of stocks or technicals, but how the real game was really played.
I loved him.
I wanted to be with him. But I wanted revenge.
If it wasn’t for you Noel, I wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with, I remind myself. Yeah, payback’s a bitch.
And soon it’ll become crystal clear just how much. I grin.
And I keep moving.
* * *
A year earlier…..
I wanted to stop. I didn’t want to do it. But I was lying in bed… and I couldn’t help myself. The craving arrives… it overwhelms me…. It comes without warning, and I’m in it again.
Oh, God, it feels so good.
This is it… this is it. Oh, don’t stop, that’s it, keep going…
I’m elated. I’m in ecstasy. I need more. Much more. Oh, God, I’m in over my head again. I’m in way too deep. I can’t stop myself.
I don’t need to, my other side argues.
You got this.
You 100% got this.
I stare straight ahead, my eyes hold a dangerous gleam. My senses are all heightened. Everything takes on a visceral sense. I am in another state, another world, in another mind. My heart races, and today, it’s good. So good. So fucking good, I don’t ever want to stop.
I hear my cat, Sam’s footsteps coming down the hallway. He always makes it better. He always brings me good luck.
He enters my bedroom and he jumps on my desk and sits down beside me, erect and kingly. My hand grabs the mouse, as easily as the way Adam took the apple from Eve, and I click and click, buying more and more.
I’m sitting in front of six computer screens… and I’m daytrading. Fuck an A, I’m in SOS and it’s going higher. I bought in way too high, days ago, and it plummeted. I was going to leave it alone, let it ride, not sell out of my other positions, but I had too. Because if I averaged down and bought more, I would make more.
Eventually, when it popped.
And it was about to. Oh, boy, was it about to. It just broke out of a descending channel and hit a new weekly high. The stock was still hammered. I had gotten my account back up to $177,000 from the $25,000 it was at when I blew up trading Apple options. What a nightmare that was.
But I came back.
Because I always come back.
I’m a trader.
A fucking trader.
I can and do beat the market on a daily basis.
Today will be no different.
Today I will win.
Because that’s what it’s always about: winning.
And I’ll always be a winner.
For a moment, my finger twitches, as I hit the keys – stocks flashing in green and red. A dizzying narcotic blur of columns and numbers…. Warp speed. Everything’s a blur. The blinds are closed; there are no reminders that a real world of duty or drudgery exists beyond my seductive cocoon.
Assurance and wisdom fill my enormous green eyes with radiant luminosity as the stock ticks up… again… and again. The phone rings. Ignore it, I tell myself. I’m too close now…
On the fourth ring, I hear it: “Jolette, it’s Paul. I’ve left you five messages. Will you ever call back?”
I see a spider walking across a FORTUNE MAGAZINE. I carry the magazine to the open window, set the magazine down and let the spider go free. On the cover is a large picture of Hedge Fund Extraordinaire Steve Benson staring right back at me with the caption: “Manipulator or Visionary?”
I stare at Benson’s photo more intently. He’s perfectly coiffed with a king-of-the world smile.
I'd give anything to work for him someday.
I sit back down at my desk, reach for my red bandana and wrap it around my forehead as I study charts assiduously. My heart pounds with increasing speed. The trade is working. It’s working beautifully…
I check the stock message boards: From TexasTrader12: “I am out with my girl and saw the price. My boner exploded through my pants and knocked over the table.” From BlockChainStar: “Hold til 80! Don’t sell!!!” with the stupid Leonardo DiCaprio GIF from the Wolf of Wall Street.
I turn to the chart again. And I’m astonished. That one can make this fast, this easily, this much money with the click of a mouse.
I click and unload more shares as the stock goes higher and higher, clicking and screaming, selling into the momentum, “OHHHHHHH YESSSSSSS!!!”
And a glorious message pops up on my screen: “You sold 2,800 shares of SOS at 9.03, net profit +$15,654.”
I jump out of my chair, manic, euphoric, orgasmic!
“WE DID IT SAMMY!!!!” Wearing short-shorts and a white T-shirt, I lift my cat off my desk and swing him wildly into the air!
“FIFTEEN GRAND IN THE BAG!!!” I croon, twirling. “That’s fifteen THOUSAND, not fifteen hundred, Sammy – fifteen THOUSAND DOLLARS!!!”
I put my cat down and he vanishes like a swift, invisible shadow.
Sitting back down, I stare at my screens, contemplating my next trade. I’m lost in a high so incredible, I will chase it again and again for the rest of my days…
Making one dollar is too many.
Making fifteen thousand is never enough.
* * *
For Chapter Two, click here:
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H E D G E D
@copyright Citygirl Juliana Jones 💕💋
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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