My phone beeps at me, and I glance over. “Turn right in a hundred meters.”

Okay, okay… it's not like I'm really able to measure what a hundred meters is when I'm driving, but I'm on a road that hasn't had a stop sign or signal for nearly three miles. If it wasn't for Willow's reassurances that her place does seem to be on the, quote, 'ass end of nowhere,' I'd have turned around two minutes ago.

But I do see a road up on my right, and I slow down, hitting my turn signal. From here it's going to be easy, Willow said her place is the only green house on the street, and about a half mile down. I slow down as I get closer, and am stunned when I see what looks like a perfectly normal looking forest green two story house sitting in the middle of a rather idyllic clearing, the surrounding pines cut back to give her a full half acre at least. I pull in and park, getting out to look up at the white trimmed windows with flower boxes under a big curtained window that is probably Willow's living room.

“Hey bitch, get off my lawn!” Willow calls from upstairs, sticking her head out and grinning. “You're making my property values drop!”

“I thought I was lending some class to this place,” I retort, flipping her off. “Let me in!”

“Door's unlocked, I don't live with a ghetto mentality like you,” Willow jokes. “I'll be down as soon as I'm decent.”

“That'll be the day,” I mutter as I go up to the front door. I open up to find a totally normal and tastefully decorated living room, with cream colored walls and light wood furniture that looks like it came right out of a Better Homes and Gardens. Everything's bright and airy, and I feel like I should make sure my jeans are clean or something before I sit down. “Hey, Willow?”

“Just a moment babe!” she calls. “Gotta get the… ah fuck it, if I poke out a little they'll just have to avert their eyes.” She comes downstairs in a totally girly girl outfit, a bowtie blouse with skirt that's just this side of scandalous it's so short, and a pair of little boot-heels that are cute as fuck. “You in a hurry or something?”

“No, just this place is so clean I feel bad sitting down in all my darkness,” I reply, looking at my black jeans, charcoal gray shirt and combat boots. “Hell, I'm not sure if I should even walk on your carpet.”

“Oh, don't worry, it's Scotchguarded,” Willow says with a grin. “Come on, relax, have a glass of lemonade.”

“Okay… who are you and what did you do with my perky, foul mouthed, insane friend?” I ask, laughing. “Or is the sort of lemonade that was made with Grey Goose?”

“Nope, we're going to go get some dinner, no way am I letting you drive drunk,” Willow replies. “But the reservation isn't for forty five minutes. So how's life?”

“Good,” I reply, wondering how and if I'm going to broach the subject of me and Dan on the lake yesterday. I follow her into the kitchen, which is done in beautiful shades of blue. “Jeez, this is totally not what I expected of you. It's so Martha Stewart.”

“I'm guessing you were expecting some black walled, red floored sexual playroom that would make Christian Grey blush and run in shock?” Willow asks, smirking. “That's the basement. My favorite toys all appreciate the coolness down there.”

“Oh really? And just who helped you put that together? And just what did you pay them with?”

Willow laughs, pouring two glasses of lemonade. “Nah, reality is my basement's just a normal storage spot with a washer and dryer. I keep most of my freakiness side to the professional shoots I do when I fly out to LA. Here I'm just a normal girl loving a normal life… with certain exceptions.”

I laugh, toasting her. “To certain exceptions. So can I ask… poking out?”

Willow nods, pointing at her breasts. “Some days, these headlights of mine want to be on high beam no matter what I do, and this top’s too damn cute to go with some padded Victoria’s Secret jail. Besides, I like thin and lacy except when I’m working out.”

“And if you poke out today?”

“Well, let's just say everyone’s going to wonder how I smuggled a pencil eraser into my top,” Willow laughs. “Ah well, it's a warm day. Besides, I'm going to be getting out of the scene in a year anyway.”

“Oh, why's that?” I ask, sipping my lemonade. It's tart with just enough sweetness, perfect for this afternoon. “Wow. You're going to make some man very happy someday.”

“Won't I? Lady in the streets, housewife in the kitchen, demoness in the sheets,” Willow chuckles. “As for my retirement, porn's a young girl's game. A ten year career is damn near an eternity. I've been around long enough, I've made my money. I got up to superstar level, nowhere near what Jenna or Tera earned in their primes but they were in the Golden Nineties. I've invested smartly, and I'm tired of constantly dieting off those last ten pounds because it gives my booty a little ripple when I'm on film. So I'm going to finish out my current contract, cash my checks, and move on. It'll give me about two to three more years of decent returns anyway, the fan club's doing well enough and they'll have enough pictures, compilation vids, stuff like that. But I'm ready to move on to the next stage in life.”

“Any plans?” I ask, and Willow nods. “What's that?”

“Finish out my degree, work on my Master's,” Willow replies. “I've been taking online classes for awhile now, but I really should stop fucking around and get the damn thing done. It’s probably porn’s worst trope, girls fucking on screen to pay for college, but I actually have tried to educate my ass ever since Dana pulled me aside and talked with me heart to heart. Then I'll invest, and find something else to take up my time. Maybe I'll learn to paint, know anyone who can help me out?”

I laugh, nodding. “I'm sure I can find someone to help you learn how to paint some fluffy happy clouds or something. Actually, with your brains, you'd do great in the sales side of things.”

“Oh? And if I opened an art gallery in town, who the hell would I show? The kindergarten's crayon murals?” she asks, winking. “Speaking of art sales, I read about your show. The review was out of the park.”

“It was… the total's very, very nice,” I admit. “So I'm picking up the tab, but you're buying any drinks afterwards. Deal?”

“Deal,” Willow agrees. We finish our lemonades and go out to my truck, where she slides into the passenger seat. “Wow, been a long time since I've been in a truck like this. Good memories too.”

“Any that you could tell those kindergarteners you were mentioning?” I ask, and Willow shakes her head, grinning. “Good to know.”

We drive back towards Lakeville, Willow asking about the show. “So will any of these pieces ever end up in the Louvre or anything?”

“Doubt it, but that's not how most modern museum pieces work anyway,” I tell her, turning back on the main road towards town. “Nowadays, the museum will commission a piece from the artist directly for some sort of special event or with some sort of theme. Maybe a hundred or two hundred years from now a private piece could find its way into a museum if the artist is famous enough, but that's rare.”

“Huh… wonder if my ass will ever be in a museum,” Willow ponders. “Seems strange to think of that.”

“Well, I don't know about your ass. You might have given me premium access, but I've never watched one of your vids,” I admit. “Just think, you could be in the Library of Congress, right in between Shaving Ryan’s Privates  and Citizen Kane.”

Willow laughs. “If they want, I have a title or two that I think is my best, but nevermind that for now. Hey, I read there was a piece you pulled. What happened?”

“Oh, that,” I reply before blushing a little. “Well, I ran into a firefighter. He was a former co-worker of Dan's.”

“So he's Dan now and not just that weird guy living next door to you?” Willow teases lightly. “I'll get to that, seems there's an overlap in the stories. Go on.”

“The firefighter, he saw the picture, and in the bio the gallery used, they talked about me moving to Lakeville. And the picture, it was a new one. A portrait… of Dan.”

“You got Dan to sit still for a painting?” Willow asks, looking at me in utter shock. “What did you do, duct tape him to a chair?”

“No, nothing like that. I just… took a few pictures.” I segue, telling Willow about my interactions with Dan and my picture taking, and Dan finding the base sketches. “So he was pissed.”

“I would have been too, but then again you've got full permission to paint me in all my stupendous glory,” Willow jokes. “And what did our local neighborhood firefighter do when he confronted you?”

“He uh… he kissed me,” I admit. “And well, I really liked it so I went over to his house later and demanded an apology.”

“An apology? That's a new phrase for it,” Willow jokes. “And how many times did he apologize for you, and where did he put his apology?”

“Very funny, we kept our clothes on,” I reply, only sort of lying. “But it left me inspired. So I painted how I see Dan, and the other firefighter told me even then I missed part of it. I saw the strength, and I see the pain… but he said Dan's a hero.”

“A hero?” Willow asks. We get to downtown, parking outside the restaurant, although calling Dusty's a restaurant is sort of overkill. Actually, the only reason we have reservations at all is because Willow insisted. “What do you mean?”

“Hold on,” I reply as we go inside. We get seated at one of the big open tables that Dusty's has, ordering beers before I continue. “Not sure, really. I guess it was tied in with that retraction I’ve heard about. Before he could give me details, he had to leave for a bad fire.”

“Oh yeah, saw something about that on the news too. Guess it's just one of those things that you ignore when it's not directly related to you,” Willow ponders. “So… hero, huh?”

I nod, leaning in. “And then yesterday, Dan and I… well, you know.”

Willow grins, nodding. “Is that so? Well, congratulations.”

“Congratulations?” I ask, leaning back and laughing. “You didn't even ask for details.”

“Honey, I've worked my way through the Kama Sutra twice, I don't need details. And you wouldn't be telling me unless it was very bad, or very good. And since you're smiling more than looking pissed, and you didn't just come out and say he's hung like a hamster and fucks like an old man, I figure it was good. Or am I wrong?”

I don't have to answer, my blush says everything Willow needs, and she lifts a glass. “Then to a good time. So what's next?”

“I'm not sure,” I reply honestly. “I mean, I am interested in him, and when we talk there's a lot in there that I want to get to know. But… but there's so much about him I don't know, and while the retraction helps, the rumors….”

“Want to know my rule about rumors and this town?” Willow asks, smirking. “Don't answer, because I'm going to tell you anyway. There are people in this town who seem to want to fulfill their lives with rumors. That's all that entertains them besides their sad little jobs and their sad little soap operas.”

Willow points with her pinky around her beer glass and I glance over, seeing Bobbi Valentine along with a few of her friends. Bobbi's trying to not be obvious that she's watching us, but at the same time she's talking and repeatedly tapping away at her phone. “Hmmm, wonder what she's saying about us?”

“Probably that after getting you drunk I'm going to introduce you to some Satanic ritual orgy where I boff you senseless in the woods while we plan the sacrifice of children and the seduction of innocent youths,” Willow chuckles darkly. “Some of the things that witch has said about me makes me sick to be a woman. Stick around with me babe, and you'll be lucky not to be tarred and feathered before it's all over.”

“I'd rather be that than the alternative. So what's your rumor rule?”

“Simply put, the more evil, more viscous a rumor that Bobbi and her buddies start about someone, the more likely they are to be a decent person if not a saint. Me excluded. I know I'm a devil, but I wouldn't have it any other way.”

I shake my head as the waiter brings our meals, and I refill Willow's glass to toast her again. “If you're a devil, then I guess I'm just down here in the fifth circle of hell with you. Because you're one of the kindest, most big hearted persons I know. So… any advice on Dan?”

“Yeah,” Willow says, hiding her blush around a mouthful of mac and cheese. “Keep seeing him. You're a grown ass woman, if it goes wrong you'll know it and break it off with him. And you're right, I don't think Dan's a monster, he'll be mature about it. If not, he'll find out that you've got powerful friends.”

“Oh I do, do I?” I ask, cutting into my steak. It's nearly bloody, and I sigh. I asked for medium rare, not still mooing. “Why did we come here anyway?”

“Because it's the only place in town that I think passes the health inspection, and because I like the onion rings… although I'm going to be dieting down starting tomorrow,” Willow says sadly. “Work coming up. But yeah, you've got powerful friends. Dan hurts you… I'll be unhappy. He won't like me when I'm unhappy.”

“What, you turn green and wear only purple pants?” I tease, and Willow smirks.

“I could wear purple panties… but I probably wouldn't. More like Sonya Blade with a nicer ass. Eat up, let's enjoy this exercise in carnivorous lifestyle before I have to put myself through hell for three weeks before work starts. You know anyone who could help me work off a few pounds?”

“Sure… go hang out with Dan until you have to fly out,” I chuckle. “You'll be in the shape of your life just doing his mornings.”

“Nah,” Willow jokes. “I'd probably start finding him too interesting, and I'm not gonna move on my best girl's guy. Ever. Totally not cool.”

I lift my beer, touched. “You're the best girlfriend I could have.”

Maybe I say that a little louder than I intended, because Willow chuckles and I glance over to see Bobbi whispering and texting at the same time. “You'll have fun with the fallout from that. To girlfriends.”