[Dear_Trent_#_11]

Dear Trent,

Gabriel is all mad about this fan club thing, but I want you to know that I think he's full of shit, and I love you the same as ever. Anyway, who cares about all that? All I care about is the sweet, sweet thought of your hot jock -- that, and your bitchin' numbers. I hope you're rocking both as hard as ever for the Euros, but I can't wait for you to get your smokin' ass back over here so I can once again taste the gorgeous elixir of your proximity.

I miss you, sparklepants, and I burn for you night and day.

The main thing I wanted to tell you, sweetness, is that I dreamt of you again last night! yeah! Lucky me, right? Well, kinda: I dreamt that you were the bag boy at my supermarket, and I couldn't take my eyes off you. You asked me if I wanted paper or plastic, and I asked you if you wanted to fuck. You did, so we made plans to make it so -- like animals -- in the produce section, after the store had closed for the night.

When I snuck in through the delivery entrance, you were waiting next to the root vegetables wearing nothing but the most adorable apron with your name embroidered on the left breast. You were growling and panting like a bitch in heat, and when you kissed me, your tongue rough and insistent, your hard... er... muscles pressed urgently against me, I'm not kidding when I tell you that molten fire shot through my loins.

Unfortunately, that's when I woke up.

Jesus. You really know how to leave a girl on the brink and DYING for more. I fucking love you.

Now, what was that about a fan club? Seriously, Gabriel needs to get some cock. He's taking everything WAY too seriously, if you ask me.

Love,
Dierdre