Initial Briefing
I work at a finance firm. When I’m not writing stories or hitting the gym, my brain’s buried in numbers. Honestly, those are the three things that make up most of my life right now: gym, writing, and spreadsheets. Yeah, I know. Weird mix. But it is what it is.
Work’s been chill lately, though. And some of these guys I work with? Let’s just say they’re the reason this story exists.
I’ve been with this finance firm for a few years now. Let’s call it Whitestone Ridge Capital. That’s not the real name, obviously. I’m not trying to get sued. But if you’re wondering whether these stories are real, the short answer’s no.The story is fictional. But the guys I describe? Every single one of them is absolutely freaking real.
I’m talking about the finance bros I work with. Guys who wear quarter-zips over thick chests, talk about leg day between meetings, always adjusting their dress pants because they’re that tight across the ass. Guys who bench 275 and still whisper “pause” when they bump fists too long. Guys who walk around like they’ve never had a gay thought in their life, until you catch them looking just a little too long.
I don’t know what it is about this industry. Maybe it’s the pressure. Maybe it’s the hours. Maybe it’s the way our group chat goes from market memes to gym selfies in 0.2 seconds. But after a while, things start to blur.
Like the time a guy in my team sent me a TikTok of a ripped dude getting oiled up, and followed it with “recreate this vid Dan”Like the time someone asked me, dead serious, what kind of porn I watch.Like the time I was at the urinal next to another VP and he moaned...moaned...when he shook off.
It’s easy to laugh that stuff off. We all do. I’ve said “bro chill” more times than I can count. I’ve said “no homo” and not meant it…
So yeah. I’ve decided to tell my stories in a portfolio of my bros.. Every bro I’ve worked with, every hot, straight-passing, locker-room-towel-snapping son of a bitch, gets their own little story (perhaps 2-3 chapters). A few might pop up again later. You’ll even get some crossover episodes, when two of us are feeling bold. Or drunk. Or… whatever.
Anyway. The first story I’m going to share?
It’s about Tristan.
He’s a second-year analyst. Ex-rugby player. Stupid thick legs. Never shuts up. Always flexing his quads when I’m nearby. Once smacked my ass in the locker room and laughed like it was nothing. So I pushed him up against a locker. He didn’t stop me.
You’ll read about him in detail in the first story.
