My CEO's Blackmail Tape - Chapter 14: Chapter 14
You are reading My CEO's Blackmail Tape, Chapter 14: Chapter 14. Read more chapters of My CEO's Blackmail Tape.
A male striptease?
My mind instantly flashed to an image of Sophia Hill's husband dropping his bath towel, showing off that ridiculously sculpted body of his.
Still, guilt nagged at me about Daniel. After a beat of hesitation, I mumbled, "I shouldn't go. It just feels—"
"What's there to be scared of? We're just watching, not jumping on stage with them! God, you're so uptight. But going alone sucks. Come on, just humor me, okay? Stay home tonight—I'll pick you up. It's settled!"
Before I could protest, she hung up.
When I first joined the company, Sophia, as the office veteran, had taken me under her wing. But personality-wise? Total opposites. She was brash, fearless, and the queen of raunchy jokes with the guys.
At first, I couldn't stand her. But over time? I grew to love her for it. Her life motto? "You only live once—might as well live loud and do what you want."
Truth? I wanted to go. I just didn't want to admit it. With that realization, I stopped overthinking and gave in.
Sophia showed up right on time. The whole ride there was nonstop laughter—way more fun than I'd expected.
First time in a nightclub. The second I stepped inside, the bass thudded straight into my ribs, and my fight-or-flight kicked in. I need to leave.
Sophia wasn't having it. She locked her fingers around my wrist and yelled over the music, "We're already here—at least look before you bail!"
Dragged to our seats, I nervously scanned the crowd, paranoid I'd spot someone I knew. Sophia rolled her eyes, dug a face mask out of her bag, and shoved it at me. "Jesus, you're such a prude."
The host took the stage, but after two sentences, the women in the crowd lost patience, shouting him down.
I gaped. These women were feral—where was the decorum?
Then the performers appeared—tall foreign guys in sleek tuxedos. But as the music revved up, they danced, smirked, and peeled off their clothes piece by piece.
The crowd exploded. A chant erupted: "Strip faster! Strip faster!"
Sophia couldn't resist. She climbed onto her chair, screaming along until her voice cracked. The energy was infectious—I clapped, even half-heartedly joined in, though my voice drowned in the chaos.
The guys teased the crowd before finally ditching their last scraps of clothing and hurling them into the audience. Cue the deafening shrieks.
Sophia grabbed my arm, grinning. "Damn, those foreign guys are packed. Just looking is enough—I'd kill to take one home!"
I laughed but kept my eyes glued to the stage.
By the time the show ended, I was still riding the adrenaline high. Sophia complained about being parched, so I offered to grab drinks. But the second I stepped outside—shit.
Someone I knew.
Maybe the mask hides me.
I tried to slip past, but as I brushed by, his hand clamped around my arm. My stomach dropped.
My mind instantly flashed to an image of Sophia Hill's husband dropping his bath towel, showing off that ridiculously sculpted body of his.
Still, guilt nagged at me about Daniel. After a beat of hesitation, I mumbled, "I shouldn't go. It just feels—"
"What's there to be scared of? We're just watching, not jumping on stage with them! God, you're so uptight. But going alone sucks. Come on, just humor me, okay? Stay home tonight—I'll pick you up. It's settled!"
Before I could protest, she hung up.
When I first joined the company, Sophia, as the office veteran, had taken me under her wing. But personality-wise? Total opposites. She was brash, fearless, and the queen of raunchy jokes with the guys.
At first, I couldn't stand her. But over time? I grew to love her for it. Her life motto? "You only live once—might as well live loud and do what you want."
Truth? I wanted to go. I just didn't want to admit it. With that realization, I stopped overthinking and gave in.
Sophia showed up right on time. The whole ride there was nonstop laughter—way more fun than I'd expected.
First time in a nightclub. The second I stepped inside, the bass thudded straight into my ribs, and my fight-or-flight kicked in. I need to leave.
Sophia wasn't having it. She locked her fingers around my wrist and yelled over the music, "We're already here—at least look before you bail!"
Dragged to our seats, I nervously scanned the crowd, paranoid I'd spot someone I knew. Sophia rolled her eyes, dug a face mask out of her bag, and shoved it at me. "Jesus, you're such a prude."
The host took the stage, but after two sentences, the women in the crowd lost patience, shouting him down.
I gaped. These women were feral—where was the decorum?
Then the performers appeared—tall foreign guys in sleek tuxedos. But as the music revved up, they danced, smirked, and peeled off their clothes piece by piece.
The crowd exploded. A chant erupted: "Strip faster! Strip faster!"
Sophia couldn't resist. She climbed onto her chair, screaming along until her voice cracked. The energy was infectious—I clapped, even half-heartedly joined in, though my voice drowned in the chaos.
The guys teased the crowd before finally ditching their last scraps of clothing and hurling them into the audience. Cue the deafening shrieks.
Sophia grabbed my arm, grinning. "Damn, those foreign guys are packed. Just looking is enough—I'd kill to take one home!"
I laughed but kept my eyes glued to the stage.
By the time the show ended, I was still riding the adrenaline high. Sophia complained about being parched, so I offered to grab drinks. But the second I stepped outside—shit.
Someone I knew.
Maybe the mask hides me.
I tried to slip past, but as I brushed by, his hand clamped around my arm. My stomach dropped.
End of My CEO's Blackmail Tape Chapter 14. Continue reading Chapter 15 or return to My CEO's Blackmail Tape book page.