🌶️ Sue’s After-Dark Diaries: Episode 17 – Dan Gets Detained

Reader Intro

Back again, my mischievous readers? Oh, you’re going to love this one. In Episode 17 – Dan Gets Detained, I discover that airport security and personal pleasure devices do not make ideal travel companions.

Mark and I planned a quick, cheeky escape to Spain – a little sun, sangria, and sin-free relaxation (or so I told myself). But as usual, the universe had other plans. Let’s just say this story begins with passion and ends with a vibrating handbag.

The Morning Madness

The morning started innocently enough – if you consider waking up tangled in a bedsheet, hair like an exploded pillow, and a half-naked man beside you “innocent.” Mark stretched, yawned, and flashed that grin – the one that usually leads to both trouble and laundry.

“Taxi’s in twenty minutes,” I said, checking my phone like a responsible adult.

Mark’s only response was a lazy, teasing, “Plenty of time.”

Reader, I should have known better. Those two words have never led to anything sensible.

Somehow, his hand brushed mine, lips followed, and next thing I knew, we were both forgetting about time zones, boarding passes, and underwear. There was that breathless, melting moment – the kind that makes you forget your name, let alone Ryanair’s baggage policy.

By the time I realised the taxi was honking outside, we were both halfway dressed, hopelessly flustered, and trying to find socks that matched a destination.

That’s when Dan entered the story.

The Packing Panic

In the chaos, I did what every woman does when she’s flustered and short on time – I started throwing things into bags like I was auditioning for Supermarket Sweep. Bikini, sunscreen, passport… and Dan.

Dan, my ever-faithful companion. My… personal massager, shall we say.

Only, he wasn’t switched off. I tossed him into my hand luggage while Mark was hunting for his charger. Somewhere between “Have you got the passports?” and “I’ll grab the towels,” I heard the faintest hum.

I froze.

Then the horn blared again from the street.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” I muttered, shoving a scarf over the bag and praying Dan behaved himself for the next few hours.

Mark grabbed the suitcases, I grabbed dignity (barely), and off we went.

The Ride of Denial

Mark was far too cheerful in the taxi. “You know,” he said, “if the flight’s delayed, we could always have a repeat performance in the hotel.”

I tried to smile, but every bump in the road made me think Dan was about to start his own Spanish fiesta in my carryon.

“Focus on getting there first,” I said, with y hard firmly on the case like a ticking time bomb.

“Why are you holding that like it’s got state secrets?”

“Because it does,” I muttered.

Airport Anticipation

We reached the airport, checked in, and queued for security. You know that feeling when you’re standing in line, trying to look normal, but your inner monologue is screaming? That was me.

Mark was humming. I was sweating. Dan was silent – thank every deity known to womankind.

Until he wasn’t.

It started as a faint vibration. I thought maybe it was my phone. Then the sound deepened – that unmistakable mechanical purr.

Mark’s head tilted. “Do you hear that?”

My heart stopped. “Nope. Nothing. Must be… the conveyor belt.”

He frowned. “There is no conveyor belt here yet.”

Panic. Pure, throbbing panic.

My carryon case I was pulling trembled. I pulled it faster, trying to smother the sound and threw my cardigan over the top. People were starting to glance around.

“Next, please!” the security officer called.

I wanted to vanish, for the ground to open and swallow me whole.

The Great Security Scene

I placed the small case on the tray, praying Dan would choose this one sacred moment to play dead. Mark gave me a suspicious look as my hand lingered over the zip.

“Everything okay?”

“Oh, absolutely fine,” I said, in that overly cheerful tone of a woman lying through her teeth.

The bag rolled into the X-ray machine.

And then it happened.

A low, steady bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Heads turned. The machine paused mid-belt. The guard frowned and pressed a button.

“Ma’am,” he said slowly, “is that your case?”

“It depends who’s asking,” I blurted before I could stop myself.

Mark choked on his coffee.

The guard raised an eyebrow and motioned for me to step aside. “We need to inspect this manually.”

I swallowed hard. “Oh, of course you do.”

By now, the enormous queue of people had started rubbernecking to see what the fuss was about – my face now the shade of a ripe tomato.

He unzipped the bag while I prayed for divine intervention. A moment of silence. Then he reached in, pulled out something bright pink, and froze.

I heard gasps, followed by a ripple of laughter from the queue. Someone even shouted, “Don’t forget to buy new batteries in duty-free!”

Wow, I thought, feeling as small as a mouse.

The item in question was still humming softly – like it was enjoying the attention.

The guard coughed. “Ma’am, is this… a…?”

I nodded furiously. “A travel massager! For tension! Shoulders!”

He nodded slowly, clearly deciding whether to confiscate the evidence or laugh. “We get those… quite often,” he said diplomatically. “Would you mind switching it off?”

“Gladly!” I snatched it from him, fumbling for the button like my life depended on it.

Dan finally fell silent. The hum ceased. The entire queue exhaled and cheered.

Mark leaned close and whispered, “You realise you’ve just given everyone here a buzz they didn’t pay for?”

I wanted to run and hide.

The Aftermath

We finally made it through. My cheeks were hotter than a paella pan. Mark couldn’t stop laughing.

“I’m never travelling with you again,” I said.

“You say that now,” he grinned, “but Spain hasn’t even started yet.”

He wasn’t wrong.

On the plane, as we settled into our seats, I tried to ignore the flight attendant’s knowing smirk (I swear she recognised me from security). Mark kept nudging me, whispering things like, “You should’ve declared him as emotional support.”

“Keep it up,” I warned, “and Dan won’t be the only one vibrating.”

That shut him up – momentarily.

Sunshine, Sangria, and Second Chances

By the time we landed in Spain, the tension had turned from embarrassment to something far more delicious.

The warm air, the smell of sea salt and citrus, and Mark’s arm brushing mine – all of it made the chaos fade into a kind of flirty nostalgia.

In the taxi to the hotel, Mark leaned over. “So,” he said, “you going to unpack your little travel companion first, or shall we order sangria?”

I smirked. “He’s on probation. But sangria… might convince me.”

Our hotel overlooked the beach – white sheets, open balcony doors, sunlight spilling across the bed. Mark pulled me close, laughter still in his voice, and whispered, “You know, Sue, only you could turn airport security into foreplay.”

“Don’t tempt me,” I murmured, brushing his lips with mine.

Outside, the waves crashed. Inside, the chaos melted into slow, teasing warmth – the kind of sensual calm that comes only after surviving public humiliation with someone who makes you laugh until you blush again.

And as the sun dipped low, I couldn’t help but think: maybe Dan wasn’t the only thing that got us through security.

Sue’s Closing Thoughts

If there’s one lesson I’ve learned, it’s this – always double-check your carry-on. And maybe invest in a padlock.

Spain was glorious, Mark was incorrigible, and Dan… well, Dan behaved himself after that (mostly).

Until next time, my naughty readers – keep your bags zipped, your passports handy, and your private pleasures switched off before boarding after all you don’t want your trusted companion confiscated lol

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🌶️ Sue’s After-Dark Diaries – What Naughty Trouble Should I Find Next?

Alright, my deliciously mischievous readers – it’s confession time again. You’ve giggled through my wardrobe mishaps, gasped through my blush-worthy blunders, and possibly questioned your own morals after that “mirror incident” (don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it).

But now the tables have turned. I’m letting you steer the next scandal.

Should I end up in another toe-curling disaster involving misplaced lingerie and far too much prosecco? Maybe tumble headfirst into a fantasy so wild even my vibrator Dan gives up halfway through? Or perhaps you’d prefer something slow, sultry, and just the right side of sinful – the kind that leaves me wondering, “Oh God, what have I done?” the next morning.