My Brother's Wife

Since the day he was born I've been overshadowed by my younger brother. He's always been the better-looking one. At school I was the big, loud joker, the guy who spent half his life outside the head's office waiting to be given the belt across my backside; Ewan was the slight, quiet, artistic one, who could charm the birds out of the trees. I'm sure even a couple of the younger mistresses had a crush on him. On the rugby field I was the hefty forward, all brawn, throwing my weight around; my wee kid brother was the twinkle-toed star winger, dazzling everyone with his pace and agility. He got four Higher education certificates and went away to the prestige of Stirling University. I left school at 17, before I took my Highers, went into my dad's haulage business and by the age of 20 I was running it, after the old man had a stroke at the age of 57. And when he got married, Ewan outshone me again.

I always had the gift of the gab at school, and I had no problem attracting the kind of girls who'd let you feel up their skirt at the end of the fish dock for a fag and a couple of Bacardi-and-cokes. The kind of girls I really wanted to know – the intelligent ones, who studied hard and knew they weren't going to spend their lives trapped in little Kirkhaven, gutting mackerel till the end of their days – they, naturally, were attracted to Ewan. If I'd taken my Highers I'd have done well enough to go to university too: everybody said so. But I was too free with my cock. Three other lads in the school had had their way with Jeannie to my certain knowledge, but I was the one she fell pregnant to – at least, that's what she said. In those days that meant just one thing: a good kicking from her three big trawlerman brothers, then a quick trip to see the minister, a hurried wedding followed by a weekend's honeymoon down the coast in Largs in the pissing rain, and back to work the next day. Both of us were working for Dad in the hauliers. Then seven months later, along came Gillian. Jeannie and I made the best of it, we had some good times and rubbed along as you do; but I always believed that that one quick fuck had ruined my chances to escape to Edinburgh or Glasgow, or even just Inverness, and making a different life for myself.

And then, years later, Ewan came back to Kirky to teach at the school. He wasn't even coming back as head, but he was on the front page of the local rag, local boy made good comes home to grace us with his presence style of thing. And with him he brought his beautiful, sophisticated, private school educated fiancée. To be brought up in Morningside, the richest, most up-its-own-arse area of Edinburgh, if not the whole of Scotland, then settle in Kirkhaven, with its trademark ambience of diesel fuel and rotting fish, would have killed anyone with a weaker heart than Shona. It had been a short engagement, and Ma and I had only met her once before, when they'd come up for a weekend a few months previously. Even then they'd spent most of their time exploring the glens and peaks inland from the town.

A month after arriving they had a big wedding – the tartan, the pipe band, the whole works. Gillian, she was 14 then, was a bridesmaid, and she and Shona both looked like angels in their oyster-coloured ruched silk dresses. I wasn't best man, a pal of Ewan's from Edinburgh did that. I danced twice with Shona at the reception though; she was one of the types of girls who never looked twice at me at school, but for the first time in my life, with her, I didn't feel awkward blethering with a pretty lassie. She laughed at all my jokes, she seemed genuinely interested in my views on things and we got on great. When she and Ewan departed for their two-week honeymoon in San Remo, Shona gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, and said it was lovely to have such a sweet, funny brother-in-law. As I watched the car drive away I felt a dig in the ribs and heard Jeannie's voice. "Hey, Romeo, remember me? I'm the one who married the thick ugly brother. Let's get home, I'm for my bed."

Shona got a job on the counter at the local chemist's at first, then went to the doctors' surgery as a receptionist. She brightened up the whole town, such a pretty smile, always cheerful, real empathy with patients – everyone loved her; especially me. They say you don't choose who you fall in love with. I certainly wouldn't have chosen to fall in love with my brother's wife. I had always told myself that I loved Jeannie – after all, we'd been married nigh on 15 years, we had a daughter, even if she was a stroppy wee cow who saw me as a loser and couldn't wait till she was old enough to flee Kirkhaven; but I'd never dreamed about Jeannie, not once, I'd never fantasised about her at quiet moments at work; and I'd certainly never felt my eyes get wet thinking about how much I'd miss her if she ever went out of my life.

We used to visit Ewan and Shona in their isolated stone cottage just outside the town every two or three weeks. Jeannie hated it; Ewan and I had a cool relationship for brothers, and Jeannie regarded Shona as a stuck-up cow. There was absolutely no justification: Shona had never been anything but warm and friendly towards her. I used to look forward to those evenings, Shona and I had some really interesting conversations about the state of the world, the environment, all kinds of things. She also used to encourage me to renew my education. I told her I could just imagine what the lads down at Mackie's Bar would make of that, me going back to school, but she kept on about it. One evening, when we were alone – Jeannie was at the loo and Ewan was asleep in his chair – I told her, embarrassed and expecting her to laugh, about the poetry I wrote. I don't know why, or even how the subject came up - even Jeannie didn't know about that, it was just too personal. But Shona didn't laugh; she begged me to show her some examples. Eventually, as much to shut her up as anything when I heard Jeannie returning, I told her I'd come out the following Saturday with some. Ewan was taking the school shinty team to a match against Kingussie, so it would just be the two of us.

Shona read the first two or three poems without comment, without even looking up at me. I sat crippled with embarrassment, knowing she was trying to work out how to tell me how awful they were without hurting my feelings too much. Then I saw a big tear drop from her cheek onto the paper. She looked up at me and her beautiful hazel eyes were sparkling with tears. She smiled and wiped her face. "Brian, they're lovely, really. You're so skilful at expressing complex, delicate emotions in just a handful of words. Honestly, I think you've got a genuine talent. You should publish." Laughing at that, as much in relief that she liked them as anything, I told her if I did that and went back to school the lads in Mackie's would really think I was on the turn, and they'd be scared to turn their backs on me. Suddenly aware that a crude homophobic reference like that would probably offend her I felt myself blushing. But she laughed, genuinely amused at my characterisation of my red-faced, beer-gut laden drinking mates. "Well that's their problem, and the worlds of art and education's loss." A couple of weeks later though, to Jeannie's disgust, some stuff arrived through the post about an evening course that would take me on a 60-mile round trip once a week.

The first time I danced with Shona after her wedding was my birthday, a few weeks after I'd started the course. I hired the seamen's hall and a local ceilidh band who threw in an '80s disco between their set. It was a good night, and Shona and I danced a reel together, collapsing onto each other's shoulders afterwards with laughter and exhaustion. Towards the end of the night one or two slow tracks came on the disco. As the opening strains of True by Spandau Ballet started up I caught Shona's eye across the hall and asked her with hand gestures if she'd give me a dance. She laughed and mouthed "Okay", and we met in the centre of the crowded dance floor, an arm round each other's waists and our hands intertwined. With the combination of the dimmed lights, the slow, romantic rhythm, a few pints of lager, my arm round a beautiful woman whose perfume filled my head...I suddenly realised that I had an enormous hard-on, which had been pressing into her pelvis for a good few seconds. Horrified at what she must think, I was about to jerk my hips away from her when it occurred to me that she hadn't disengaged from me: on the contrary, I was absolutely certain I felt her rub against me. Scarcely daring to breathe for the rest of the dance I buried my face in her hair, inhaling the fruity aroma it held, too scared to really enjoy the continued soft bumping of our groins.

As the lights went up and the piano accordion announced the start of the next reel I pulled away from Shona and returned to my seat. Jeannie, talking drunkenly to a pal, had barely noticed I had moved. I felt hot, sweaty and deeply uncomfortable. I pinched a fag out of Jeannie's handbag – I'd been trying to give up for the previous six months – and pushed through the throng onto the deserted wee balcony behind the hall. Leaning on the wooden balustrade, about to light the smoke, I gazed at the lights of the building playing on the oily water of the harbour. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Brian, thanks for the dance, it was really nice." I turned my gaze to Shona. Her full, ruby lips were slightly parted, her eyes dark pools with her back to the building. Christ, she looked so gorgeous. I placed my arms around her upper back, slowly to give her a chance to react, and pressed my lips to hers. For a split second she responded – I know she did – then her head jerked back, her eyes widening in alarm, and she half-whispered and half-screamed, "Brian, no! What are you doing?" Confused and a wee bitty humiliated I mumbled something about thinking it was what she wanted. Lifting my arms from around her she said, sounding a little confused herself, "How could it be what I wanted? Brian, this is wrong." Then she turned on her heel and rushed inside. By the time I'd smoked my ciggie she and Ewan had left. The following day Shona 'phoned me in the office, her usual cheery self, thanked me for a great party, and confirmed that Jeannie and I were still coming round next Tuesday.

Relations between our two families were much the same as ever after that night, but I was a wee bit reserved around Shona. I knew it hadn't just been my imagination that she had responded to me, and I was angry that I'd been made to feel like the bad guy. The trouble was, when we were together I couldn't take my eyes off her. I found myself watching those sensual red lips dancing as she talked. It didn't help that both the business and my marriage were struggling at that time. There wasn't much call for a small haulage firm. With government restrictions meaning that fishing boats were spending more time in port than they were allowed to go to sea there was less produce to shift to market, and what there was was being picked up by the big players, who were starting to squeeze us small local firms out. With other local businesses struggling too there were cash flow problems, and the strain of all that was impacting on me and Jeannie.

It all came to a head one night when I said something about Shona. She and Ewan were away on holiday at the time, and I can't even remember what it was I said, but Jeannie flew into a real strop. "For Christ's sake Brian, all I ever hear from you these days is fucking Shona. I sometimes wonder if you remember which brother it was who married her. Still, you might get lucky while they're away, Ewan might drown or something, then you can shift out of here and move in with that superior bitch and we'll all be happy." With that she stormed off to bed, I snapped at Gillian to wipe the smirk off her face, which pissed her off, then I went down to Mackie's and had a skinful. When I got back home, in the early hours of the morning, I was too pissed to get up the stairs and fell asleep on the front room sofa. The next morning, with me feeling like shit, Jeannie was banging around and came downstairs hauling a tightly packed suitcase. "I'm away to stay with my sister in Kirkintilloch, and Gilly's coming with me. If you ever decide you don't want to fuck Shona we might talk about coming back." She reacted to my stunned silence with a furious suppressed scream and hauled her case out the front door, closely followed by my loving daughter, giving me the finger on her way out. Two days later the bank folded the business.

About a week after that, Shona rang me at home. She talked brightly for a couple of minutes about her holiday then said, "I saw the yard was all locked up this morning. You given everyone the day off?" I told her the news about the business, and that, oh, by the way, Jeannie and I wouldn't be coming round later in the week as agreed because Jeannie had done a runner. Shona's response was to say she'd see me in a minute. It was actually about five minutes later that she came bustling through the door in her surgery uniform, to find me sitting with my head in my hands at the kitchen table, a three-day growth of stubble darkening my chin. She sat down across to me, held my hand, and asked me about what had happened. I hadn't missed Jeannie – or bloody Gillian come to that – but as I related my woes I began to well up with self-pity, and I buried my head in my arms on the kitchen table. Shona rushed around the table and sat in the chair next to mine, hugging me. "Oh Brian, love, I'm so sorry, oh God, you poor love."

I raised my head to look at her and she started softly kissing my face, in sympathy for me. I slipped my face across hers and suddenly our lips were locked together, in a real kiss, my tongue deep in her mouth. She didn't pull away, but held my face in her hands, her eyes closed, pulling me more firmly onto her. It had all happened so quickly that it took me completely by surprise, but instinct just took over. I traced my lips down her throat, and onto the triangle of chest which showed between the v-neck of her collar. Her hands gripped the back of my head and I thought for a moment she was going to pull me away, but she simply gasped "Oh God". Almost without my realising it, one of my hands had slipped up her tanned bare leg and was tugging at the gusset of her white cotton pants. Again I simply followed my instincts. I don't think I needed tender lovemaking at that point, just some sort of pure, animalistic release of my frustration. I'd always been good at going down on Jeannie, she actually liked it more than me screwing her. I dragged the white pants down Shona's legs and off one foot, then pushed her dress up around her hips and thrust her legs roughly apart. Probably as amazed as me at the way things were moving so fast, she threw her head back and sat with her eyes tightly shut, a sort of hissing sound coming from behind her gritted teeth.

I could see she had just a single thin strip of dark hair extending across her pubic mound, a Brazilian wax. I pressed my face into her cunt and rubbed my nose up her lips, inhaling her mounting arousal, hearing a wordless cry escape from her mouth. I nuzzled her clit, then stroked my fingers across her pussy lips and inserted them deep inside her. I brought my tongue and teeth to bear, alternately licking and nibbling at her as she squirmed, shuffling her hips forward to impale herself more deeply on my face. I held her thighs tightly in my hands as she bucked and gasped to orgasm on my tongue. Savouring her sweet taste I felt my body untense, resting my head on her soft mound. Unbelievably, barely ten minutes had passed since she'd walked through the door. Together we stumbled through to the front room and, oblivious of only net curtains in the window separating the view of us from the main street outside, we lay on the sofa and kissed lovingly as she unzipped my fly, pulled out my rock-hard cock and slowly wanked me. I think she would have sucked me off if I'd asked her to, but I was happy with that. She carefully wiped my spunk off her hand and my prick with a paper tissue. Then, adjusting her dress and collecting her knickers from the kitchen, she knelt beside me and kissed me again. "Thanks Brian, I think we both needed that. It can't happen again though."

I stroked her sweet, flushed face with my hand. "I know. Shona, I'm sorry."

She placed a finger across my lips to silence me. "Don't be; like I said, it wasn't just you who needed it. It's been between us for a while; now we can both move on. Listen, I really am sorry about Jeannie, and the firm. If there's anything I can do – anything else I mean – you will let me know, won't you?" She left then, without any explanation of why she'd needed that release as much as me.

I lay on the sofa for a long while, my flaccid cock still outside my trousers. Aye right, we've made each other come now, that's out the way, we can move on. That's all right then. Oh Christ, if only. I wanted her more desperately than ever, and with that on top of everything else I just didn't know if I could cope. I didn't, not really. For the next week or so I drank too many cans of lager, I hardly saw anyone, I ate irregularly, just carry-outs from the fast food joints nearby. I slightly lost track of time, and I wasn't entirely sure how many days had passed when I woke up on the sofa, wearing the same clothes I'd out on two mornings before, wincing at the daylight as Shona flung back the curtains. She clapped her hands briskly. "Come on Brian, get up, it's too nice a day to be lazing around in here." Blearily I asked her what the hell was going on. Still coming on like a girl guide leader on speed she chirruped, "A little bird told me you've been moping around here for days, feeling sorry for yourself. Jesus, the place smells like a Chinese take-away. So I've taken the day off work – at very short notice – and we're going out for a picnic." She saw my look of irritated disbelief. "Now come on Brian, I've pissed my bosses off mightily, so let's make it worthwhile. You go and have a shave and, I'm sorry but, a long shower, I'll make you a nice strong coffee, then we can head off."

Muttering into my four-day beard I stumbled upstairs to do as I was instructed. I had to admit that, after cleaning myself up and sinking a large, very strong coffee I did feel considerably more human. When we got into Shona's Jeep I saw she really had placed a wicker picnic hamper on the back seat. While I sat with the window down, letting the cool air breathe life back into me, she kept up a constant stream of slightly desperate cheerful banter. After driving about 30 miles she pulled over and, carrying the hamper between us, we walked half a mile over hilly moorland to her chosen picnic spot. It really was quite lovely. A grassy hillock with daisies all around us, the sun glinting off a distant loch, with a backdrop of grey mountains, and a selection of sandwiches, cake, potato crisps, chocolate biscuits, fruit juice and coffee. After eating I lay back on the tartan blanket Shona had brought, absolutely stuffed and feeling more relaxed than I had for months.

After several minutes of companionable silence Shona leaned over me, and asked softly, "Well, is it working? Are you feeling a bit better?" I sat up and looked into her eyes and...I just couldn't help myself. I slowly leaned into her and pressed my lips to hers, pushing my tongue against them. She resisted for a moment, then her shoulders seemed to relax and she let me in. I actually managed to make the kissing last about two minutes, with her tongue pushing its way back into my mouth, before she pulled away and placed a gentle hand on my chest. "That was nice, you're a good snogger Brian. But I meant what I said – we can't have sex again. Ever. I'm really very fond of you, and I value our friendship; but I'm married to your brother, and I do love him. Please understand that." Reluctantly I nodded and, after we'd been for a little walk in the nearby woods, hand in hand, we packed up the picnic things and she drove me back, from the green hills to the grey town and my crap existence in it.