Free The Wedding Bet by Cupideros

When I entered the empty bathroom, I sighed. I lay my back on the door. Then seeing all the stalls, I rushed into the furthest one in the back. The stall was empty and clean. I lowered the lid. I sat on the toilet and fumbled with the fake cast. I dropped it on the floor as two younger women entered the bathroom.
    “I don’t know where she went.”
    “That was too funny. Two armored knights a white and black vying for her affection.”
    I remained motionless. First, I heard one girl opening up what sounded like a tube of lipstick. Then I heard one of the girl open a compact.
    “Maybe if I wear more blush makeup, I can attract two armored romantic knights?”
    “My lips needed more lip gloss from biting my lips during all the excitement. Besides, blushing from running isn’t exactly a beauty fad yet,” said the other girl.
    “Yeah, but think of it. The black armored knight rode away. And the white armored knight is still here. He’s Mr. Hector Contofalsky.”
    “The famous plastic surgeon from Hollywood California? That’s Contofalsky, Hector?”
    “How many more Contofalsky’s can there be?”
    I heard her compact close. They were about to leave. At least, I knew one of the heavy metal suitor’s identities.
    “Hector’s rich.”
    “We’d better get back out there before the wanted girl runs away again.”
    The two younger women laughed and left the bathroom quiet.
    I struggled fitting the cast on my right arm. Only to discover that it fit my left arm. What good was that? I counted on this cast in eluding several activities, dancing, and too much drinking. Now I had no excuse for ninety of the possible romantic events this Lover’s Dance might bring. I cursed PR Man’s name. How did he make that mistake?
    I took a deep breath and stood up. After leaving the stall, I realized how helpless I looked. I came up with a ruse to explain my non-broken arm during my dash from the car. I applied a little lip gloss to give myself a real lie as my alibi. I walked out into the now crowded hall of people walking back and forth. Nineties dance music played.
    “There you are,” said Cynthia. “Did you meet Hector yet?”
    The tall dark and handsome man with long locks of curly hair took my hand and kissed the back of it.
    I admit. He had the flare of romance. His dark eyes seemed Spanish. “No. I haven’t met Hector yet.” I wanted to kiss the lips of the lips that kissed my hand.
    “You’re gorgeous. Surely you must be taken.”
    “No, my sweet, I assure you I am single.”
    “Single today? Single Tonight? Or just plain single?” I turned to Cynthia. “Where did you fly him in from California?”
    “Yes. I did!” Cynthia’s jaw dropped. “Hector Contofalsky is a famous plastic surgeon from Hollywood. I know a few people who entered the film business after his fine work altered their face.”
    “Oh do you think I need some work, Sir Contofalsky?” I flattered and baited the white knight, having the advantage of knowing who he was.”
    “No. You are perfect. In fact, “he paused, “I was wondering if you like this next dance?”
    “I can’t,” I whispered and turned to Cynthia and then to Hector. “You see there were two knights, a black armored one and a white armored one chasing me in the parking lot. I’m afraid they might still be out there. And I don’t want anyone to be trampled or cut by all that heavy metal.”
    “I assure you the white knight is not out there, My sweet Megan.” He bowed and kissed my hand again.
    “He belongs on the silver screen not behind the actresses who use his services, Cynthia.”
    “I know,” Cynthia blushed.
    “Is it my imagination or does every romantic man these days talk, slow and sensual like Antonio Banderas?”
    Cynthia and I chortled.
    “I knew you’d love finding a man to marry,” Cynthia said, as Olivia rushed up to us from the dance hall.
    “Olivia!” I exclaimed, trying to avoid the dance. “Nice to meet you here.”
    “Cut the act.