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The Buying Of A Vibrator




A long time ago I brought a vibrator, it was an embarrassing event which I knew would one day make a funny story.


Years later the event rose to the occasion like any decent young man and found its’ way into a novel I was working on “Three Angry women and a Baby.”


The novel is now finished and I thought why not cheer a few folk up in these tough times of isolation and fear? So sit back, enjoy and raise a glass to the good old days when shopping didn't require gloves, or masks and the only thing dangerous about a sneeze was its' ability to put your back out.


The Buying Of A Vibrator


I decided to buy a vibrator.I had seen a couple of them at a hen party humping about a table like legless dicks, and I, like many, had flashed a glance at an Ann Summers window, sometimes stopping for a better look . . .

Ann Summers is the sort of shop that sells sex toys and lingerie for women, and I had passed it many times, flashing a glance at the mannequins in underwear a drag queen would give her right tit for and nighties like those worn in romantic comedies.


Well, this time, I wasn’t going to fanny about — I was going in.

It was a Monday morning when I walked in. Ann Summers was empty apart from two assistants lounging about the counter talking about their holidays.


They clocked me straight away as I lingered by the edible body paint . . .


The older assistant nudged her comrade as I picked up a pink tube of “pussy rub” and tried to read the label without my glasses. She was mid-forties and had a blonde hairdo with short back and sides, six-inch heels, and glasses swinging from a gold chain just shy of a cleavage that would have Henry cracking Mount Everest jokes.


“VV at eleven o’clock,” chuckled Short Back and Sides, setting her cleavage into motion.


Her younger male comrade’s perfect eyebrows twitched. “What was that, Darl?”


“Vibrator virgin,” laughed Short Back and Sides.


Perfect Eyebrows flashed a smile with uniform Hollywood teeth. There was not a wrinkle in sight.


I moved towards the back of the shop as they watched. It was a bit unnerving, but I was determined. I picked up a set of handcuffs, and fumbled.


“Definitely a first,” muttered Perfect Eyebrows.


I caught sight of several vibrators arranged like a selection of James Bond weapons at HQ. I, mid wondering if Q would appear, fingered a silver bullet-shaped object. I turned it about in my hands.

It looked like it would fit . . .


“What do you reckon, the Rabbit?” said Short Back and Sides.


Rabbit? I stopped . . .


“Always the Rabbit, dear.” Perfect Eyebrows laughed. “Need any help, luv?” he shouted across to me.


I stopped. “Well . . . I . . . err . . . not sure . . .”


With a Marilyn Monroe saunter, Perfect Eyebrows appeared beside me, followed by the clipped march of Short Back and Sides.


I fumbled about with words, trying to describe what I was looking for, and they watched like a toddler pulling wings off a fly.


“I was sort of wondering . . .” I muttered.


“What, luv?” said Perfect Eyebrows.


“About getting . . .” I faltered. “It’s just that . . . well.”


“Hmmm?” they said in unison like two Gothic undertakes.


“It’s my first time . . .” I blurted.


“Bit overwhelming, pet?” Perfect Eyebrows flashed his teeth.


“There’s so many . . .”


“I know.” He patted my arm.


“. . . sizes, shapes, and colours,” I muttered. “That one” — I gestured with the silver bullet — “looks like it’d block a toilet, let alone . . .” I attempted a chuckle. “Down below.”


“It’s all in the shape,” said Short Back and Sides, casting a glance at her comrade.


“And lubricant,” muttered Perfect Eyebrows.


Lubricant? I thought.


I looked about. There were things I had never seen before: G strings that looked as comfortable as a G string, shiny tight nurse and Santa outfits looking as comfortable as, well . . . as a G string, oils that promise the impossible and enough flavoured condoms to fill a sweet shop.

“We’ve all been there, luv,” he said.


I stared down at the silver bullet in my hand.


“Do they all . . . you know . . . fit?” I said.


Short Back and Sides eyed my lean frame. “Anything would fit you.”


“No, I meant those.” I waved the bullet at the vibrators on show. “Never used one before.”


“Always a first time,” said Short Back and Sides, swiftly lifting the bullet from me with a way out of your league sniff.

“We’ll soon sort you out.”


She marched towards the stand like she was missing a whip and someone had hidden it. She, gesturing for me to follow, pulled out a large pink dildo and waved it under my nose.


The smell of new lingered.


“Beginners,” she said in a clipped fashion. “Durable, flexible, and easy to clean.”


“I don’t want anything too noisy,” I muttered.


“Of course, dear,” said Short Back and Sides.


“I mean I’ve seen them in a porn . . . err . . . film.”


They looked at me.


“Not that I’m a regular watcher,” I laughed, “just the odd, you know . . . when I was younger; curious . . . like.”


“Ooh seventies — natural pubes,” chuckled Perfect Eyebrows.


“More eighties,” I muttered.


I looked at Short Back and Sides, woman to woman.


Mission: Impossible.” I chuckled. “I mean if I saw that before I was married . . .”


She hushed me with her hand. “This is what I use when my boyfriend’s away, and I’ve tried everything . . .”


“She’s tried ’em all,” Perfect Eyebrows jumped in.


“But honestly,” said Short Back and Sides, “I always go back to my Rabbit.”


“She’s lost without it,” said Perfect Eyebrows, “been through at least . . .” He silently counted. Four? Five?


Short Back and Sides threw him a look, then turned to me. “Honestly, there is no substitute. If I don’t get my weekly — ”


“Weekly? Pfff — daily, more like it,” said Perfect Eyebrows. “When I stayed with you, I needed earplugs — honestly.”


“Daily?” I said.


Short Back and Sides glared at her comrade.


“We’re all girls here,” he said to her, then touched my arm. “If you saw him you’d have few Rabbits too.”


“Him?” I said.


“Oh absolutely you’d have a draw full,” said Perfect Eyebrows.


I looked at Short Back and Sides.


“He’s talking about my boyfriend,” sighed Short Back and Sides.


“A beard like a Taliban,” said Perfect Eyebrows.


Short Back and Side pulled a face.


“I’d go crazy if he went down there with that thing,” said Perfect Eyebrows.


“Jesus,” she muttered.


“I mean honestly I would.” He pulled a face.


“We’re not here to talk about what you like,” she said.


Perfect Eyebrows shivered. “Hate beards.”


Short Back and Side threw him a shut it look.


“Well I’m sorry, luv, but his must prickle like a cactus,” he said.


“There is nothing cactus-y about my Lenard,” snapped Short Back and Sides.


“Even the name gives me prickles.” Perfect Eyebrows shivered again.


“Yes, well, lucky for you he’s not your type, is he?”

Short Back and Sides looked at me. “He just loves eighties-style butch men . . . packed at the front like one of your porn films.”


“Only watched one years ago,” I muttered.


“I’m just a tart,” laughed Perfect Eyebrows, “but who cares? It’s not like we’re gonna live forever.”


“Don’t be saying such things,” she said.


He looked at me. “She’s vegan, thinks it will make a difference — save the panda, the white leopard, the whale, the whole friggin’ world.”


“If we all gave up meat,” she said, “then — ”


“There’d be enough rice for everyone,” snapped Perfect Eyebrows. “Yeah, well, honey, rice gives me wind.”


I turned to her. “I’m a vegan.” Well, thinking of it . . .


“No worries here.” She threw me a warm smile. “Even the lubricant’s animal-free” — she tapped my arm — “and gluten-free as well.”


Twenty minutes later, I, clutching my “this is not from Ann Summer’s” bag, walked out of Ann Summers filled with expectation, at least two great stories to entertain Sheryl and the brother with, a decent set of underpants that I was assured was comfortable, and an “easy as sliced vegan cheese” vegan sausage recipe.


Not that I had anyone to wear lacy lingerie for, but as Perfect Eyebrows said..."You never know when a car will come along and knock you over” — which had Short Back and Sides tutting — “and darling, the last thing you need when a handsome nurse casts his eyes across your smalls is to be seen in a set a bag lady would sling in the bin.”

Kerrie Noor Is A Comedy, Romance & Sci-Fi Author based in Scotland. Explore her recent work on Amazon or contact her for more information.


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KERRIE NOOR