Cyril had only just taken in the sexy outfit that Bridget had greeted him and his wife in when he was suddenly thrust headlong into a sense of confusion.  He froze at the motion and words of Mistress Bridget.  He felt a hot flare reach his cheeks.  He found himself unable to move for a moment.<br/><br/>There was no way around it though.  This was what he had asked for from her.  And what he had agreed to when he brought Marissa here.<br/><br/><em>This cannot be happening.</em>he thought as he bent down.<br/><br/>"May this humble and unworthy one enter the home of Mistress Bridget?"<br/><br/>To end the request, Cyril bent and made a motion as if to kiss the doorstep.  He never had had to actually brush his lips across the metal frame, but the motion served the same purpose.  He was abasing himself before her...and seeking her permission.  He had been denied before...and he hated the thought of waiting on her front doorstep.  It was embarrassing.<br/><br/>Of course, at the same time, Cyril could feel the blood in his body begin to cause his groin to tighten.