🌶️ Sue’s After-Dark Diaries Ep 10: The Throbbing Handbag

A Naughty Welcome Back

There are moments in a woman’s life when you pray the ground will open up, swallow you whole, and save you from public humiliation. Last Tuesday evening, at Tesco of all places, was one of those moments. And yes, before you even ask, Dan was involved.

I know what you’re thinking. Sue, why for the love of Pinot Grigio would you take your vibrator shopping? The short answer is: I didn’t and the long answer? Well, Dan has a habit of sneaking into places he really doesn’t belong, like my handbag, my laundry basket, and once, tragically, into my niece’s toy box (long story, never to be spoken of again).

But before we get to the incident that will forever be known as The Throbbing Handbag, let me rewind a bit.

Pre-Tesco Prep: Innocent Intentions (Sort Of)

I’d only popped out to Tesco for a bottle of wine and some strawberries, a woman’s must haves (ladies, back me up here). It was innocent enough. My outfit was casual: leggings, oversized jumper, hair in a bun that screamed “this woman has given up”. My outfit was fully in “blend in with the freezer aisle” mode.

My handbag, however, had other plans. You see, I’d shoved Dan in there the night before after a particularly… vigorous session. (He’d fallen off the bed, and rather than bending down in a post-orgasmic daze, I’d scooped him into the nearest available receptacle space: my handbag.)

Naturally, I forgot about him. Until Tesco.

The Tesco Tango Begins

Everything was going smoothly at first. I’d made it through the wine aisle, resisted the urge to text Mark a picture of me clutching a bottle of Merlot like a life raft, and even managed to avoid Sharon from Slimming Club, yes, the same Sharon who had her weight-loss-on-a-Sybian moment last week. (She’s become a local legend, by the way. Someone needs to start a fan page: “Sharon Rides Again.”)

I was just about to grab the strawberries when I heard it.

BZZZZZZZZZZ.

At first, I thought someone’s phone was vibrating in their pocket. Then I realised the sound was coming from inside my handbag.

Cue Sue’s panic face. Wide eyes, frozen smile, sweating like a woman in the dairy aisle.

Dan’s Tesco Debut

Horrified, I tried to casually press my bag against my hip, hoping to muffle the noise. That only made it worse, because apparently, I’d activated Dan’s turbo mode.

BZZZZZZZZZ—BZZZZZZZZZZ—BZZZZZZZZZZZ.

It was like carrying around an angry bee colony on steroids.

People started turning their heads. An old man near the broccoli frowned at me like I was personally responsible for global warming. A mum with two kids yanked them closer, whispering, “Don’t stare, darling.”

And then, of course, who should appear at the end of the aisle but Mark.

Enter Mark: Tesco’s Resident Menace

“Evening, Sue,” he said, grinning like the cat who’d caught me with cream all over my face. “Or should I say… buzzing evening?”

I nearly dropped the strawberries. “Don’t. Say. A. Word.”

Mark leaned casually on his trolley, eyes twinkling. “So, tell me, did you intentionally bring Dan to Tesco this time, or is this another case of… handbag possession?”

“Mark, I swear to God, if you breathe a word…i’ll….i’ll”

He smirked. “Relax, Sue. Everyone knows Tesco’s got great offers, but I didn’t realise they catered to that kind of club card points.”

I gave him my best death glare. It only encouraged him.

Public Humiliation, Courtesy of Dan

The buzzing grew louder. My handbag was practically dancing on my shoulder now. I clutched it like a rugby ball and hissed, “What do I do?”

Mark, ever helpful, said, “You could always pretend it’s a massage device. Tell them you’ve got a trapped nerve in your shoulder. Very common.”

Before I could respond, Sharon appeared, looking smug with a basket full of low-fat yogurts. She clocked the vibrating handbag instantly.

“Oh my God, Sue,” she said, eyes sparkling. “Please tell me that’s Dan. You brought him shopping?”

My jaw dropped. “You know about Dan?!”

Sharon snorted. “Everyone knows about Dan. Half the Slimming Club wants his number. Honestly, after last week’s… incident… I could do with one myself.”

Mark practically fell over laughing. “Careful, Sharon, one more ride like that and you’ll be slimmer than a breadstick.”

“Cheeky sod,” she said, swatting him with her yogurt multipack. “Although… Sue, seriously, where’d you get Dan? Asking for a friend.”

Damage Control Fails Spectacularly

By now, the Tesco staff were eyeing me suspiciously. One young guy stacking bananas muttered, “Do we call security, or…?”

I’m now in panic mode and In a move of sheer desperation, I shoved my handbag into my trolley under a pile of vegetables. It muffled Dan slightly, but not enough. The trolley shook like it was possessed.

Mark leaned over, voice low. “Sue, love, your salad’s about to have the ride of its life.”

I buried my face in my hands. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Look on the bright side,” he said. “At least it’s not another thong incident.”

“Don’t you dare bring up brunch,” I snapped.

The Checkout Catastrophe

By some miracle, I made it to the self-checkout. I scanned my wine, my strawberries, my lettuce-that-had-now-been-vibrated-into-oblivion, all while my handbag continued its disco routine.

Of course, the self-checkout had other ideas.

“Unexpected item in the bagging area,” the robotic voice blared.

Mark cracked up. “Yeah, no kidding.”

The machine froze. A member of staff came over, typically a teenage girl who clearly hated her job and her life. She poked at my trolley, raised an eyebrow at the vibrating lettuce, and said, “Madam, your bag is… moving.”

I considered running. Just abandoning the wine, the strawberries, the vibrating handbag, and fleeing Tesco forever. But before I could act, Mark swooped in like the unhelpful knight he is.

“She’s got one of those, uh, portable back massagers,” he said smoothly. “Old injury. Needs constant relief.”

The girl blinked, sour faced and unimpressed and said “right.” Then she walked off, muttering, “Weirdos.”

The Escape

Finally, I paid, grabbed my bag, and sprinted out of Tesco like my arse was on fire. Mark followed, laughing so hard he nearly dropped his bags.

Outside in the car park, I collapsed against my car, still clutching the cursed handbag.

Mark leaned in, smirk still plastered across his face. “So, Sue… tell me. Does Dan get loyalty points? Because after that performance, he deserves a free toaster.”

I groaned. “I hate you.”

He winked. “No, you don’t. Now, serious question: has Sharon bought herself a Dan yet, or do we need to crowd-fund her a Sybian? Because if that Sybian was the trial run, I’d say she’s ready for the deluxe edition.”

I burst out laughing, despite myself. “Honestly, Mark, you’re impossible.”

“And you,” he said, tapping my handbag, “are the proud owner of Tesco’s first-ever vibrating lettuce.”

Epilogue: Lessons Learned (Or Not)

Driving home with Dan perched, sulking in the passenger seat, his batteries finally spent, it took him long enough. Did I learn my lesson? Probably not. Will I double-check my handbag before leaving the house next time? Doubtful.

Because, let’s face it, my life wouldn’t be half as exciting, or half as humiliating, without Dan, Mark, and the occasional Tesco meltdown.

My thoughts wandered, Sharon. Honestly…, telling the slimming club about Dan, he’s become a legend and not just in the bedroom. This could be dangerous….

And so concludes Episode 10: The Throbbing Handbag, the day Dan turned Tesco into a sex shop, Sharon confessed she needs a vibrator, and Mark discovered a new hobby: tormenting me in public.

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