Geordie Ex's Sister
"Bumps into his ex's older sister at the Bigg Market. She always liked him more than her sister did. Now she's single too."
The Bigg Market on a Saturday night.
Absolute chaos—stag dos, hen parties, students, locals. I'm three pints in when I spot her across the bar.
Gemma. My ex's older sister.
She spots me too.
"Howay, stranger."
She's pushing through the crowd, drink in hand, grinning like she's genuinely pleased to see me.
"Gemma. Been a while."
"Two years." She looks me up and down. "You've filled out. Looking canny, pet."
"You too."
And she does. Thick thighs in tight jeans, tits straining her top, same cheeky smile as her sister but with more behind it.
"How's Kelly?" I ask.
"Married. Baby on the way. Moved to Sunderland."
"Shit. Good for her."
"Aye." Gemma sips her drink. "She's happy. For what it's worth, she knows she fucked up with you."
"Water under the bridge."
"Is it?" She tilts her head. "You were good for her. Better than that muppet she's with now."
We end up at a corner table.
Her mates wave her off—they're used to her disappearing, apparently. We talk for hours.
She's thirty-one, works in HR for a bank, recently out of a long-term thing.
"He was boring," she says. "Wanted me to be someone I'm not."
"Which is?"
"This." She gestures at herself—leopard print top, gold hoops, makeup done to perfection. "Too much for him, apparently."
"His loss."
"That's what I told him."
Week One
She texts me the next day.
Good to see you last night. Fancy a proper catch-up?
I shouldn't. She's my ex's sister.
When and where?
We meet for coffee.
Weird, meeting a Geordie lass for coffee, but she suggests it. Says she wants to talk properly without the noise.
"Can I be honest?" she asks.
"Always."
"I fancied you when you were with Kelly. Felt awful about it."
"Gemma—"
"Let me finish." She stirs her latte. "I'm not saying anything should happen. Just... I wanted you to know."
Week Two
We meet again.
This time drinks, like normal people. She's wearing a dress that shows off every curve, and I can't stop looking.
"You're staring, pet."
"Can't help it."
"I know." She smiles. "That's why I wore it."
We talk about Kelly.
About the breakup, about what went wrong. Gemma listens, really listens.
"She was young," she says finally. "Didn't know what she had. I told her that at the time."
"You did?"
"Aye. We had rows about it." She finishes her drink. "She thought I was jealous."
"Were you?"
Gemma doesn't answer. Just looks at me.
Week Three
We're at her flat.
Just drinks, she said. Just talking. But we're on her sofa and her legs are tucked under her and she's closer than she needs to be.
"This is mad," she says.
"Completely."
"Kelly would kill me."
"Probably."
"Do you care?"
I think about it. About Kelly, about the past, about the woman in front of me.
"No."
She kisses me.
Softer than I expected—tentative, almost. Like she's been waiting years for this and can't believe it's happening.
"I've thought about this," she admits. "So many times."
"Same."
"Really?"
"You were always there. At parties, at family things. Always watching."
"You noticed?"
"I noticed everything about you, Gemma."
We take it slow.
She leads me to her bedroom, undresses carefully. Her body's thick and beautiful—curves Kelly never had, softness I didn't know I wanted.
"Been a while," she admits. "Be patient with me."
"I've got all night."
I worship her.
Every inch. She gasps when I kiss her thighs, moans when I taste her. By the time I'm inside her, she's already come twice.
"Fuck—you're—oh God—"
I move slow, deep, watching her face. She wraps her thick thighs around me and pulls me closer.
"Don't stop. Please don't stop."
When we finish, she cries.
Not sad tears—overwhelmed ones. She buries her face in my chest and shakes.
"Sorry. I'm being daft."
"You're not."
"It's just—I waited so long. And now..."
"Now you don't have to wait anymore."
Months Later
Kelly finds out.
Gemma tells her—refuses to lie. The phone call is nuclear. I hear bits of it through the wall.
"I don't care what you think... No, you threw him away... He's mine now."
Gemma hangs up. Comes back to bed.
"Well. That's that."
"You okay?"
"Aye." She curls against me. "Should've done this years ago."
Newcastle's not that big.
People talk. Kelly's livid. Their mam's confused but coming around.
None of it matters.
Every night I come home to Gemma—her curves, her laugh, her warmth—and I know I'm exactly where I should be.
The Bigg Market works in mysterious ways.