Six thirty on a Friday evening in February and Gareth was sitting in a pub in South Wales waiting for his mates to turn up ready to watch the game. Wales were playing which should have been good, but they weren't currently playing well and he didn't expect a good result against a strong French side.
All of which did nothing to raise the feelings of anger and regret that filled his thoughts these days. Eighteen months ago everything seemed to be going so well, as a rising star in the local rugby system he had been tempted up to London three years previously to play for one of the leading clubs in the country. The first season had been hard but he had applied himself, doing all the things the coaches asked of him even though he didn't make the first team once.
The second season saw him get a few appearances off the substitutes bench early on in the season and as luck would have it he played impressively, by Christmas he was a regular first teamer and attracting media attention. That was when he met Samantha, five foot nine inches, blonde(natural), legs that went on forever, tits and arse to die for. He couldn't believe his luck the first time she accepted his invitation to an evening meal, by the third date they were in bed together and two weeks later she moved in.
Gareth was earning more money than he could have dreamt of, consequently he had invested in a luxury flat in an expensive part of Wimbledon. The mortgage would have caused most people to faint, especially back in his home town where he could have bought a house for what he was paying for three months mortgage.
Everything was great, Samantha was the stuff of wet dreams, sex was out of this world. She did like to spend money but he was earning plenty. They were devoted to each other and Gareth had decided that marriage was a definite possibility.
The third season saw him make another good start and by November had been selected for the Wales squad in preparations for coming autumn series of internationals. Then disaster struck; the week before the training camp, playing a cup game against a strong French team, Gareth caught the ball from a high kick, he was immediately tackled and a pile of players landed on top of him. There was a resounding crack and everyone knew something serious had happened, all the players instinctively stopped and when the pile of players moved away, Gareth was left prone with his left leg sticking out at an impossible angle.
Six months later, after three operations, he was able to walk again but was told a return to playing was out of the question. The club were very good in the short term but by the end of the season he was told that his contract would be terminated. There was a fairly tidy lump sum of compensation but it was obvious that he would not be able to maintain his current lifestyle. He had to sell the flat, a decision which coincided with a slump in the property market which left him likely to lose about 20% of the purchase price. Then came the hammer blow when he discovered Samantha had been fucking one of the other players while he'd been in hospital.
There seemed only one solution, to move back to his home town where an Uncle had offered him a managerial position in his firm installing CCTV systems. Luckily Gareth had had the foresight to qualify as an electrician straight from school and had worked in the business while making his way up the rugby ladder. His problem was where to live, immediately before moving to London he had lived at home with his mother, his father having cleared off when Gareth was six years old. His mother had taken the news that he was moving away very badly, in fact she had virtually kicked him out of the door, telling him not to bother to come back. He had taken the bull by the horns and made one return visit, bringing Samantha down to meet his mates and hopefully his mother.
The visit had been a disaster, his mother had stood in the front doorway, calling him all sorts of bastard for leaving her to fend for herself, then turning her vitriol onto Samantha, calling her a cheap slag that was only interested in his money. Gareth had to admit that his mother's assessment of Samantha had proved to be accurate but at the time it only served to deepen the rift between them.
Leah, Gareth's mother, had never been the perfect mother, she had tried her best but parenting did not come naturally to her. Having a husband like Tony didn't help, a complete waste of space who devoted his whole life to watching tv, drinking beer and sex. In fact, during one heated argument Gareth had overheard her screaming at Tony that the only thing about him that worked was his cock and that wasn't big enough to do a proper job. Needless to say, a few days later Tony disappeared, Gareth later discovered him shacked up with a fat scrubber who lived on the other side of town.
Tony had got Leah pregnant on her eighteenth birthday, she always told Gareth he was the worse birthday present she'd ever had, not that she hated Gareth, she did try to love him, but she just had no maternal instincts, seeing him only as a weight around her neck. At least when he got his first contract as a young player he was earning a decent wage which helped her out with managing the house but then he decided to move to London and all Leah could think of was all the years she had struggled in boring, low paid factory work and as soon as things started to improve the ungrateful little bastard cleared off just like his father.
Leah could easily have found another man, 5ft 7ins, a full head of auburn curls falling to her shoulders, 34C boobs with not an inch of sag, trim waist, firm bum and great legs, any man in the town would have her like a shot but most of them were married and she wasn't going down that route, the ones that were single were just as big wasters as Tony. She had tried on-line dating twice all she got out of that was having to take the train to Cardiff to meet a couple of real weirdos.
Consequently the only sex Leah had experienced since Tony left was courtesy of her vibrators, which cost her a fortune in batteries. There had been that one time on that awful holiday to Lanzarotte, an all-in job paid with vouchers from a national newspaper. The plane was filthy, the hotel plagued with cockroaches and after getting drunk one night she found herself up against a wall with her panties round her ankles with some smelly, greased waiter humping her. That in itself had caused weeks of panic as she wasn't on the pill and the bastard hadn't used anything.
When Gareth arrived on the doorstep virtually broke having just managed to pay off the mortgage and saddled with huge credit card debts thanks to Samantha, Leah was less than pleased to see him, but in the end he was her son so she agreed to let him stay until he got back on his feet again. There was little prospect of that, despite him working full time as more debts seemed to be arriving with every post delivery.
Gareth felt trapped, snowed under with his money problems and as if that wasn't bad enough his mother never missed an opportunity to remind him that going to London was one huge mistake and "shacking up with that slut Samantha," was another. His only respite was when he was with his mates. They were all players in the local rugby club, the club Gareth had started out with, back in the day they had been a gang of 25 young lads who played hard on the pitch and off, all enjoying each other's company. Sure enough the group had diminished as years passed, most still playing but social activities curtailed by wives and family commitments. There were just six of them left including Gareth but they were a close group, all trying to keep his spirits up. Charlie, the youngest was convinced that Gareth could fuck his way out of depression, he insisted there were plenty of young tarts in the town who would be happy to open their legs for a good looking guy like Gareth.
Gareth was in the pub waiting for the others to turn up, Charlie was first to arrive, "The others will be late," he said sitting down with his pint, " some tosser has thrown himself under a train so all the services are delayed." Charlie worked at the local council depot in the town but the others all worked in Cardiff.
"No problem," Gareth replied, " nothing happening this evening anyway, looks like the game has been called off for a security alert."
Charlie started on his favourite subject. "You fucking anyone yet?"
"Not interested Charlie, at least wanking can't get me into trouble."
"That's terrible man,". Charlie took a big swig of his beer. "What about that hot mother of yours, ever thought of er..."
"Thought of what?" Gareth glared at him. "Thought of... you mean... fuck off."
"Why not?" Charlie came back defensively. "She's fucking hot man, l bet you've thought of it, l know l would."
"Fuck off Charlie, that's fucking incest."
"Nah man, incest is with kids not adults."
