Free Dark Matter by John Rollason

over him.  Sam had made a bet with herself that after working as a trader for a few years he had struck out on his own and is now seriously wealthy.  Curious as to whether she was right Sam ventured a question.
    'So what do you do?'
    The guy smiled as if he had just won a competition.  'Oh' he responded, trying to act as though he hadn't expected the question 'I have my own fund, I run it out of my top floor offices in Midtown.  We're doing really well too, despite everything.'
    That was it the guy realised, he had seen the look in Sam's eye as he had added the “doing really well” bit and she had decided that then he was a “no go”.  For whatever reason , he thought to himself, this woman is not impressed by money, status or any of the things a New York female usually looks for in a man.   He decided to cut his losses and be magnanimous. 
    'Well it’s been terrific talking to you.  Let me know if you change your mind about that dance, I'll be around for a while.'
    Sam was a little sad to see him go.  Not that she was interested, she wasn’t, but he had at least been a gentleman .  Not like many of the men whom I normally meet.  Arrogant, rich and vain.  All typical “Alpha” males, when you meet a group of them you can almost drown in the testosterone, she reflected.  Sam thought about the lack of a man in her life.  She knew more about what she didn't want than truly what she did want.  The only real image she had in her mind was a “Joe the Plumber” type.  An honest, hardworking man who wouldn't mind taking out the garbage or washing the dishes, but at the same time someone who was still a real man.   Sam knew that type was out of her league, for a man to feel a man he needs to be the breadwinner and generally a touch smarter.  Sam thought about her considerable wealth, her high level of education, and all the “successful” men she has known.  Presidents, Prime Ministers, Heads of State and the rest, truly there could not be a “normal” man for me who could compete in that arena.
    Anne, one of Sam's closest friends, wandered over to her now that she was alone.  As she approached Sam, she started clapping her hands, in a slow mocking fashion. 
    'Well done,' Anne began 'that is almost a record, even for you.  Tell me what is your secret to scaring away attractive and successful men?  Really, tell me, I want to know.'
    'He wasn't right' Sam responded, rather feebly she thought. 
    'Oh is that so?’  Anne countered 'and what wasn't right about him?  Tall, dark, handsome and obviously rich.  Was he witty and intelligent?'
    'Well yes' answered Sam 'he was actually.'
    'Well' continued Anne 'what was the problem?'
    'He wouldn't take out the garbage....'
    Anne was dumbfounded, there was no telling what her friend might say, do or think.  Anne had tried countless times to set her friend up with men, most had never gotten off the ground, the others faltered very quickly.  The men all saying something similar, that Sam was cold and distant.  Anne didn't believe this, she knew her friend too well, but she had to admit that Sam could act very cold if she didn't feel that you were worth her interest.
    'Come dance with me' Anne asked Sam.
    'OK' Sam replied, deciding that man or no man, she would enjoy herself tonight.
     
     
    04:15        28 October  [09:15  28 October  GMT]
    Residence of the Secretary-General, East 57th St., New York.
                 
    Sam tripped up the stairs to her mother's house, just managing to stay upright and not fall.  Key in hand, she entered and tried to act sober.  She knew that her mother would be fast asleep, and likely to rise in just a couple of hours.  Slipping off her high-heels, the cold marble floor of the lobby contrasted against the soft warmth of the Oriental rug that she crossed on her way to the drawing room.  The place is like a stately home, picture perfect and immaculately kept , she reflected, the rug is probably a