Part 1 - Emily
As the clock struck 9:30, the opening bell rang through the New York Stock Exchange, and the traders of Goldman Sachs collectively drew in a deep breath, nervously bracing for another stressful day of work.
Everyone except for Emily. Emily was a gifted trader, always seeming to find companies poised to break through. She bought GameStop at $20, she invested in Spotify before they went public, and rumour has it that she bought a share of Apple with her Christmas money in 2009 when she was just 12.
The predominantly male trading floor, who at first thought Emily was hired for her stunning good looks and provocative outfit choices, believed she was just getting lucky. But after 18 months of consistent wins, even when the overall market lost, the floor came to accept that Emily was an investment oracle.
Everyone, including her boss Avery, wanted to know her secret. Emily sensed their greed and deflected the onslaught of questions, always replying, "It's simple: Buy the right companies."
Emily did have a secret, but it wasn't some nonsensical adage. Emily's gift, her superpower, was reading the thoughts of those she spoke with. She could even sense the true meaning behind the press releases of the larger companies. When a company was truly confident in their success, she bought. When their belief faded, she sold.
Sensing thoughts had other advantages too. When she walked into the office on the first day wearing a tiny pencil skirt and a blouse cut so low that her large breasts nearly spilled out of it, the nearly overwhelming wave of "
nice ass
", "
fuck, those are some nice tits
", and "
damn, I'd sure love to bend her over my desk and rail her
" thoughts increased her confidence and dampened her panties.
Amongst the thoughts admiring her sexiness were a few more damning thoughts, like "
Fuck, I forgot to feed Natalie, my Hucow,
" from her boss Avery, and "
I sure hope my wife doesn't find out I masturbate in the grocery store parking lot
" from the helplessly inept trader, Alex. Alex's secret wouldn't be useful as he'd surely be fired within the month, but knowledge of Avery's Hucow could be useful in negotiating a pay raise.
Part 2 - Will
The only person Emily couldn't read was Will. Will was consistently amongst the top performing analysts, but his style was more technical. Whereas Emily would invest in a small number of companies she knew would be profitable, Will bought and sold a large number of stocks seemingly at random. He would buy a company one day, then short it the next, and somehow make money on both trades. His success baffled Emily, but nevertheless, he and Emily dominated the rest of the trading floor.
Will came to work every day in a black suit: simple black jacket, crisp white dress shirt, pressed black pants, and a solid-coloured neck tie. To those who paid attention, Will's tie colour followed a subtle pattern: red on Monday, green on Tuesday, blue on Wednesday, purple on Thursday, and black on Friday. Even on Fridays, when Avery allowed his team to dress casually, Will still arrived in his suit, saying, "It looks good, I like it."
While Emily spent her days talking to CEOs and reading press releases, Will spent his time behind his quadruple-monitor set up analyzing stock patterns. Emily often strolled over the Will's space to try to uncover the method behind the madness, but the sheer amount of information was dizzying. She couldn't understand how he could synthesize anything from his mountain of graphs and data. Emily desperately wanted to know two things:
1. Why she couldn't read Will
2. How he could make so much money
When Emily wanted something, she got it. Men are easy to manipulate even without access to their thoughts, but with her talent, getting anything was a cakewalk. First, she learned their deepest desires (usually to fuck her), and then dangled it in front of them until they broke. And if for some reason that didn't work secrets (like Avery's Hucow Natalie) made great blackmail material.
Unfortunately, Will was a tough nut to crack. Without access to his thoughts, Emily tried what all the other hot girls do when they want something: flirt.
One Monday morning, Emily gazed into her wardrobe and picked out her shortest skirt; a white, button-down blouse; a tiny, red thong; and a matching red push-up bra which added two cup sizes to her already massive breasts. Looking at over her shoulder at her reflection in the full-length mirror in her bedroom, she wondered if her skirt was a touch too short. Bending over even slightly caused her skirt to ride up, exposing more of her bubbly ass. "
Damn, you have nice tits,
" she thought admiring the cleavage revealed by unbuttoning the top four buttons of her blouse. She completed the outfit with a touch of matte red lipstick and classic 4-inch black heels.
No! This is too much. Emily's mind raced as she struggled to balance modesty and sexiness. She stripped out of her skirt and put on something a little more modest. Fuck. No. I need to seduce Will. Why can't I read his mind? Agh! Fine, the short skirt it is. Emily put back on the sluttier skirt, and hurried out the door to hail a taxi.
Emily strutted into the office, and all heads turned. All jaws hit the floor.
"
Did god hear my prayers?
"
"
What the actual fuck; did I die and go to heaven?
"
"
Fuck, now I need some new underpants.
"
"
I would trade the lives of my wife, kids, and parents for just one night with her.
"
Emily knew what she caused and felt a little bad for teasing them, but she was on a mission. She strode over to Will, who was, as usual, dressed in his typical Monday outfit.
"Hey, Emily, you look nice today. What's the occasion?" Will asked, looking up from his monitors.
"You think I look nice? Hehe. How was, uh, how was your weekend?" Emily replied.