The thought of you is distracting me from everything I should be doing. As a result, everything I do is involving you in some way or another. My cooking especially. My chicken soup was made with desire for you. The garlic roasted potatoes are full of lust for you. Even the roast chicken is sighing over you in the oven.

I tell you, it’s food porn central, chez Juno this evening.

The anticipation is utterly exquisite. Like an amuse bouche before a meal, I want more and more. Having been awarded the delicate morsel you afforded me yesterday, I’m now slavering for more, the juices inside me flowing fast and furious, the swirl of excitement threatening to distract me from every purpose to which I set my mind, until we meet again.

You mentioned an element of fear at how all-consuming your ravenous hunger is, and the temptation it brings. I know that fear — I’ve felt it too. But the more I think about it, the more it seems like an exquisite excitement at what lies ahead, a deliciously tempting dish still covered over, awaiting the moment when the lid is lifted and all is revealed.

My imagination is running riot with all the how and what and when… how will your lips feel against mine… what will i do first — stroke the side of your cheek, or brush my hand through your hair… when will your hand touch my bare, quivering skin first — and how will I stop my legs from buckling and collapsing under me from sheer adrenaline?

To want someone badly is not new to me. But this is taking things to another level. And so to pass the time, I’ll continue cooking with unbridled passion — food porn is as good a substitute as any…

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