Jordan Belfort - Catching the Wolf of Wall Street

I couldn’t believe it! The Duchess had finally come to her senses! She was going to make love to me this very fucking instant and then everything would be okay again. It had always been that way with us. Things could be bad for a while, but not much longer than that. In the end, we would always make love and then all would be forgotten.

Should I jump her right now? I wondered. How would she react? Would she be angry with me or would she respect me? I was a man, after all, and the Duchess understood such things. She was wise to the ways of the world, especially when it came to men, and even more especially when it came to their manipulation…

… although to jump her now would not be the prudent thing to do. First I needed to put a good spin—no, a great spin—on my legal problems. I needed her to feel entirely confident that my gold mine was about to open once more for unfettered ore extraction.

I took a deep breath, coagulating all the loose ends of my bullshit story, and I went for broke. “First of all,” I said, with great confidence, “I know you were worried about all that crap Coleman spewed at you, and I just wanted you to know that none of that— not even one drop of it—was ever a possibility.” And that would be lie number one. “You and I both know that you never did anything wrong”—and that would be lie number two, considering she actually had witnessed me counting money, as Joel Cohen had alleged—”and, of course, the government knows that too. Coleman just said that to scare you and to make things difficult for me. That’s it.”

She nodded slowly. “I know that,” she replied. “I mean, it bothered me when he first said it, but I never actually believed it.”

You didn’t? Hmmm, okay, then! Ignorance is definitely bliss. I nodded in agreement and soldiered on: “Yeah, of course I know. It was all bullshit, Nae”—and here comes lie number three—”the whole damn lot of it. But, either way, it’s all a moot point now. You see, Joel Cohen called Greg today; in fact, he called him right while I was sitting in the room, and he told him that what he really wanted—what he was really looking for—was for me to cooperate. That’s it.” I shrugged. “Apparently, I know so much about what’s going on in the stock market that I could save the government years of heartache, not to mention countless dollars.” Hmmm, I really liked the way that sounded. It made me sound smart, vital, important, altruistic, a necessary participant in the fight against greed and corruption on Wall Street; not like the cooperating rat I was about to become! I decided to milk that line of thinking for all it was worth. “Anyway, Joel said that if I did cooperate, if I was willing to help the government make sense of everything, I probably wouldn’t have to spend even a day in jail. That’s how valuable the knowledge I have is.” I nodded a single time, wondering if I had shot myself in the foot by using the word probably, so I added, “I mean, I already spent three days in jail, which is long enough, don’t you think?” I smiled innocently.

She nodded slowly but remained silent. I noticed a tear running down her cheek. I wiped it away with the back of my hand. A good sign, I thought. Wiping away a woman’s tears brought you one step closer to her heart and, for that matter, her loins. It was a biological phenomenon. When a strong man wiped away a woman’s tears, she could refuse him nothing.

Emboldened by the Duchess’s tears, I continued with relish: “But it gets even better, Nae. You see, if I cooperate, I won’t get sentenced for four or five years, and any fine I might”— might — “have to pay wouldn’t be due until then. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s gonna be a pretty hefty fine, but it’s not something that’s gonna wipe us”— us —“out. We’ll still be very rich when it’s all over.” And there goes the biggest lie of all, the whopper, which was lie number four.

In fact, if the government were to leave me with a million dollars, as Magnum had indicated, the Duchess and I would be broke in three months. But I had rationalized that too, which was why I now added, “But however much money they leave us”— us —“with, it’s not like I’m gonna retire or anything. I mean, in a few months from now, once all this commotion dies down, I’m gonna start trading stocks again.” I paused, not quite liking the way that sounded. “I mean honestly, of course. I’m talking big stocks, not small stocks. I’m not going back to all the craziness and everything.” I found myself desperately searching for an exit ramp. “Anyway, I could probably make five or ten million a year just trading for my own account, totally legitimately, without any risk.”

I studied her face for a moment. She seemed to be sobering up a bit. Hmmm, I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but I sensed a window of opportunity slamming shut. It was time to stop selling the future and to go for the close. I said confidently, “That’s it, Nae. That’s the whole ball of wax. I know it sounds too good to be true, but that’s the way it is. I guess I should just count my lucky stars that the government is so desperate for the information I have.” Now I paused, and I shook my head gravely. “Anyway, the only thing I was really upset about was that I might have to give them information about my friends.” I smiled and shrugged, as if to say, “There’s a silver lining here!” Then I said, “But, according to Mag—I mean, Greg, all my friends are going to cooperate too.” I shrugged again. “So in the end that won’t really be a factor.” I edged myself closer to her and began running my fingers through her hair.

She smiled and said, “Well, that’s really good news, honey. I’m really happy for you.”

You? Did she just say you?. Shit—that was bad! She should be happy for us, not just me! I was about to correct her when she added, “And I wouldn’t be too worried about your friends. Other than Alan Lipsky, every last one of them would sell you down the river in two seconds flat. There’s no loyalty on Wall Street. You always told me that, right?”

I nodded but didn’t say a word. In fact, I had heard enough and spoken enough. Once more, the Duchess and I were back on the same page, which is to say, it was time to attack. I reached over and grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close to me. Then I grabbed her by her cute Western tie and yanked her head toward me.

And then I kissed her.

It was a slow wet kiss, an altogether loving kiss, which ended quicker than I’d hoped, when she pulled away and said, “Stop it! I’m still mad at you.”

It was time to take charge. “I need you,” I groaned, reaching my hand up the slit of her dress, heading for the Promised Land. By the time I reached the top of her thigh, the heat was so terrific I was ready to come on the sheets.

So I pounced, throwing my full weight on top of her. I began kissing her ferociously. She tried to wriggle free, but she was no match for me. “Stop!” she whined, with a hint of a giggle. “Stop it!”

I hung on the giggle and pulled up her denim skirt, revealing her pretty pink vulva with its tiny Mohawk of blond peach fuzz. Ahh, I had always marveled at what a terrific vagina the Duchess had! It was the most delectable vagina I’d ever seen, and considering I’d slept with almost a thousand hookers, my opinion counted for something. But all that hooker business was in the past now. All I wanted was the Duchess—now and forever!

I slowed my tempo a bit, and I looked her in the eyes and said, “I love you, Nae. I love you so much.” My eyes began welling up with tears. “I’ve always loved you, from the first moment I laid eyes on you.” I smiled at her warmly. “I missed you so much this week. I can’t even begin to tell you how empty I’ve felt.” I pushed her hair back with my hand and went for the close: “Make love to me, baby. Make love to me right now, nice and slow.”