Plowing a field is hard, especially when you decide the way to do it is to not use power tools. Or animals. In fact, other than a spade, a pickaxe and a hoe, I'm practically down to digging with a stick. Cavemen had the same tools I do, although mine at least are steel.

But I've got time, and I'm making progress. This field's going to be for a late fall harvest, potatoes mostly, and I figure another day or two will get it done. If I can get the damn work done already, I'm already late after letting myself sleep in. It just felt too good to stay asleep, memories of my date and sex with Chrissy over the weekend leaving me unwilling to get up at the crack of dawn to get a jump start on things.

Ah well. It's not like I've got a huge to-do list for the rest of the day, just working on this patch. I head out to the next spot to be turned over and lift my pickaxe up, driving the flat blade into the earth. The land around the lake is decently fertile enough, although there's a lot of clay once I get more than six inches down. It's that clay that sucks on my axe as I lever the head up and pull, yanking a gash in the dirt that'll be refined later.

After a few minutes my shoulders and back warm up to the work, and I appreciate the breeze and the shade from the nearby pine trees. Sweat starts to trickle down my forehead and between my shoulder blades as I see a car pull a bright orange Honda Civic pull up outside my cabin. It's one of the sporty models, I know from my days on the department and a classmate who was into Japanese sports cars.

Setting my pickaxe down, I wipe my brow as a gorgeous woman with obviously dyed metallic pink hair gets out. It's one of those fashions I haven't quite gotten used to, but then again I'm sometimes unsure if I'm used to people in general any more. “Can I help you?”

“Depends,” the woman, who's wearing a painted on set of blue jeans and a gingham check blouse that shows off a body that would put a lingerie model to shame, says. She's got a throaty voice, a little deeper than I'd expect for a woman built like she is, and with such an overt sexiness I suspect I know who I'm talking to. “Dan Benson, I assume?”

“I am. Willow Trapham?” I ask. Willow nods, and I gesture towards the side of my house. “I'd offer you a handshake and a seat inside, but....”

“But you're all sweaty and the cabin would get funky as fuck in about ten minutes,” Willow says with a chuckle. “No worries. We can even sit over here if you want. If you don't want Chrissy seeing us.”

“So she did send you over,” I comment. “I doubt you just decided to pay me a visit a few days after my admission to her on mere coincidence.”

“Not quite,” Willow says as I lead her to my outdoor chairs. She settles in after adjusting her chair so that she faces mine, and crosses her legs in front of her just like… well, like a normal woman would. It seems strange, and I know that despite my open minded point of view, I’ve got a few perceptions about her I need to change. Maybe I did watch too much porn when I was younger, assuming a sex actress would be some sort of no-panty wearing slut in a short skirt or something. Willow though just acts normally, even if her voice drips with a natural sensuality that I suspect she’s always got. “She told me what you were worried about. I took in on myself to come talk to you. Can't do nothin' about the dumb bitches in town, but I thought maybe you and I can clear the air.”

“Appreciated. Drink?” I ask. “I've got some frozen orange juice I can mix up quickly if you'd like.”

“Water's fine,” Willow assures me. I fill two big glasses, adding ice to one, and head out where I offer her the icy one. “Thanks. I love my Honda, but the air conditioner sucks.”

“Why not use the windows?”

“And mess up this hair? Honey please, it took me hours to get this shade of pink just right for my next shoots. I shift it up from time to time for the fans, and I'm babying the hell out of my fabulousness. Now, let's stop dancing around the bush. People are wondering if me and Chrissy are seeing each other.”

“That's what I heard,” I admit. “I know it's stupid. I apologize.”

“Not as much as Dirk needs to apologize for not talking with me about it first,” Willow says with a chuckle. “I would have jumped on this a lot earlier. So here's the deal. First, Chrissy's my best bitch, but I'm not interested in fucking her. At all. Now, question for you. If I weren’t in the line of work I am, would you have been as worried?”

I think, then shrug. “Honestly, I don't know. I mean, she and I aren't in a deep relationship I guess but yeah, I’m starting to think of her as mine. And well, I gotta ask. So you are in adult movies?”

“If you're do I fuck on film for money, yes I do. I’m sure you’ve seen such films?” Willow asks teasingly. “But your deeper question is simpler. Yeah, I’m a kinky bitch on film. Hell, I’m famous for pegging guys. I assume you know what that is?”

“I’ve heard of it.”

Willow laughs softly. “And aren’t interested I can tell. That’s fine. Listen, on video I’ve done a lot of shit I’m not interested in doing in real life. I do however have a PhD in sex, and can offer you any hints you could possibly want. Interested?”

“That's okay,” I reassure her, for some reason chuckling. She's just so… fucking honest about it. It’s actually disarming, and making her more feminine at the same time. It’s like, take me or leave me, but I’m gonna be me. I can respect that and give it back. “I seem to handle things well enough. Not that I’ve got a lot of recent experience, but I’m hoping I’m skilled.”

“Oooh, you’re more than handling things,” Willow teases. “And confident too. Don’t get cocky though, mister. I’ve made quite a few studs beg for me to fuck them.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Okay, okay. I see why you're friends with Chrissy. She's pushy sometimes too.”

Willow nods. “Dan, she's one in a million. I mean, besides being beautiful, she's got to be open minded if the two people she finds herself latching onto in this town are you and I. And yes, I was totally honest with her about who I am and what my job is about… oh, thirty seconds after meeting her.”

“I'd heard the rumors, but to be honest while you’re beautiful, I just… Chrissy’s got me and that’s it. I don’t screw around on a woman I’m with, and I don’t do multiple partners. No offense if you do.”

“None taken, and I don’t. Like Chrissy, I'm a girl in a million too,” Willow says self-confidently. “Dan, despite my work and the reputation that comes with it, I’m not the slut actress that I am on screen. Frankly most of that shit bores the fuck out of me and I only bring it up with people so that they don’t give me the whole ‘oh my god how could you lie to me about who you truly are’ speech. I’ve heard it more than once. As for not being into me, I look at it like this. Some people are into girls with big boobs, some people like girls who are damn near flat chested. I know a co-star who’s literally got a chest like a thirteen year old, and gets consistent work still. Some people like Latinas, Asians, whatever. There’s someone out there for me. And as long as nobody fucks with me while I live honestly and keep looking for that person, I’m cool with them.”

“And am I fucking with you?”

It's Willow's turn to laugh, leaning back. “Well, let's see. You're made me delay writing a blog post, and you've made me skip watching Black Mirror so that I could think about how I wanted to do this whole little talk, but that's about it. On the other hand, you've make my friend happier even if she is confused and worried that she's got a boyfriend she's not sure she's ready for.”

“Boyfriend?” I ask, surprised and chewing the word over. Chrissy thinks of me as her boyfriend? I can't even remember the last time I had a girlfriend.

Willow notices, and laughs again. “Yep, you damn fool. Whether you like it or not, and no she hasn't called you that to me yet, but that's what you are. You sort of graduate from next door booty call when you start asking your friends for help or advice over the whole relationship. Oh and tacitly admitting that they got their socks knocked off by the guy next door.”

I sit, pondering. I was just saying I’m feeling things for her, but holy fuck. A girlfriend… and the best looking one I've ever had. For some reason it fills me with worry instead of happiness. “I just… Jesus Willow, I'm not sure if I'm able to even handle a relationship anymore. I sometimes wonder if I can even handle myself.”

Willow purses her lips, nodding. “Mind if I give you a little insight, from someone who has had more than their fair share of body image issues?”

“Body image… really?”

Willow nods. “Really. We’re judged just as harshly as any model, maybe even more when you get trolls talking about if you’ve got beef curtains or not. Some people who hate on girls like me, they always point out the high percentage of issues and violence in our backgrounds. Especially the chances of assault. In my case they’ve got it all backwards. It wasn't getting my ass kicked and beaten that got me into porn. It was me being a girl that was open and honest about sex that got my ass kicked, often by other girls. Anyway, sure I've had body image issues. A lot of the fucking vampires in my industry try to feed those fears for us, getting us plastic surgery, whatever.”

“I didn't know,” I admit. “I mean, I've watched my fair share of porn, but-”

“But you don't think about the behind the scenes bullshit,” Willow says, and I nod. “Better you don't. Anyway, my point is, I could have gotten trapped in that same life. I could have ended up one of those drug addicted, surgery addicted wrecks who are doing hundred buck scenes and cam whoring most of the night away. But I'm not. I haven't had my boobs done, I've got no collagen in my lips, and my ass is all natural and some Spanx in a skirt, thank you very much.”

“Congratulations on the hard work,” I reply, intrigued by this insight into a lifestyle I'd never thought about before. “I'm not sure how that applies to me.”

Willow snorts, and takes a sip of ice water before replying. “Simply put, I had to come to terms with who I am, and love who I am before I could ever love someone else. Now, you've got a chance with a girl that I wasn't shitting you when I said she's one in a million. On the other side you've got a problem is that you're going to have to learn to love yourself at the same time you learn to have a relationship again. Good luck with that, because if you let Chrissy slip through your fingers… well, the only person you can blame for that is your damn self.”

I nod, but I'm not sure I understand what she's saying. Well, kind of. “I'll try. On one level in my head, I know what you mean. But those dark parts, the part that has me hand plowing the vegetable patch we’re sitting next to, that's still not soaking in what you're saying yet.”

“Didn't think it would… yet. You're the kind that strikes me as too thick skulled to have it soak in that quickly,” Willow says with a smirk. “Or am I wrong?”

I snort, shaking my head. “No, I've been accused of being hard headed from time to time. Thank you for talking with me about this.”

“No problem. So, any questions for me?” Willow asks. “Usually when I talk with people about who I am, it's an unending dialogue about what shooting porn's like or just defending myself against prejudices. You… haven't. I appreciate that.”

I think, then nod. “Okay, so you're not into Chrissy sexually. So, uh… what's your type?”

“Tall, muscular studs,” Willow says immediately. “Blue collar guys that smell like a man should when he comes home from work to treat me to a night of lovin' that'll leave me gasping for air and fireworks shooting across my eyeballs. Know any that aren't dating my best friend?”

I blink, surprised. “If I didn't know better Willow, I'd say you're saying I'm cute.”

Willow smirks. “Well, I see the fire didn't damage your eardrums. Don't worry though, Dan. I said you're my type, not that I'm into you. Because I don't do that shit with a friend's man.”

“And my… deformities?”

“Considering I used to live in LA, you really think I haven’t seen worse?” Willow asks with a laugh. “Don't make me laugh. I’ve been to parties with guys who’d call your scars weak sauce.”

She has a point. “Well, what about… I don't know... do you ever bring work home?”

“If you mean do I sometimes do kinky shit in personal life, it depends on the guy,” Willow says with a laugh. “But before anything, he has to accept me and love me. And that's the thing, Dan. You have to accept you as you are now. I'm happy with the way I look, I'm comfortable in my skin. Hope you are too.”

I purse my lips, looking out on the lake. “I'm not sure if I am.”

Willow sighs, and takes another drink of water. “You keep this up, and I'm going to be drinking shit a lot stiffer than water. Listen, just try to remember a few things. One, I don't want to fuck Chrissy. Two, she doesn't want to fuck me. And three, if you can do things right, she's going to be wanting to fuck you. A lot, I bet. The rest… well, that's up to you.”

I nod, somehow reassured. “Thanks, Willow. Your reputation is deserved, you don't bullshit with people.”

“Never have, never will,” she says, standing up. “Now if you don't mind, I'm going to go hang out with your girlfriend and paint her toenails or something so I can get the inside scoop on your love life.”

“Why not ask me?”

Willow laughs. “Because that's what girlfriends do together. Besides, it's more fun to watch her blush if I can get her to admit just how freaky you two get.”

“And who says we're freaky?” I ask, making Willow laugh again. “What?”

“Oh, you two got the potential to be freaky as fuck, that's for sure. Good for both of you,” she says, grabbing her purse. “Definitely good for both of you.”

Willow walks away and I watch her go, shaking my head. Part of me wants to stop her, to beg her not to ask Chrissy about our sexual encounters. But another part of me wants her to go, to let Chrissy brag if that's what she wants to do. That little flickering ember of my ego glows just a little brighter knowing that a beautiful woman might be saying good things about me.

“Then again,” I mutter to myself as I get up and go back to work, “what if she says I'm little dicked and a lousy lover?”

Lousy? Nah.

Don't know about the size of my dick… it's not something I compare.