Author's note: This is a loose sequel to my earlier story 'Jessica Rabbit: Showtime', set many years later and exploring a pairing often depicted in Julius Zimmerman's famous series of Jessica Rabbit drawings.
All characters are TM and © their respective license holders and their appearance here is parody. This story should be read only by those who are 18 years or older.
Feedback and voting is always very much appreciated.
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Lightning flashed behind the Hollywood sign, threatening an oncoming storm.
It had been one of those summers where the heat made you more aware of your own body as it sucked the moisture right out of you. The kind of summer that when the rain did finally arrive, it hissed with the steam that came with it.
But it wasn't raining. Not yet. And as Jessica Rabbit hugged the curves of the Hollywood Hills in her convertible Rolls Royce, the engine roaring, she kept glancing at the horizon, wondering when the clouds were finally going to break.
The wind was whipping through her lush red hair. A human woman would worry about looking dishevelled but it wasn't a problem for the toon beauty. She knew that wherever she arrived, no matter what, she would look good. After all, she was drawn that way...
Looking good, however, was the furthest thing from her mind. In a town like LA, friendship was a commodity hard to come by. With things falling down around her she needed a friend more than ever, and there was only one person she knew she could count on.
Jessica took one last curve at top speed before jerking the wheel to the left, the wheels bumping up over the curb as she pulled into the long, winding driveway. The car idled to a stop outside the mansion, where a solitary light emanated from deep within.
She could hear jazz music playing as she killed the engine and walked up to the front door, curling her mink stole around her shoulders. She knew he'd be home and was grateful to have been proven right.
Jessica pressed her finger to the doorbell. A needle scratched and the jazz music stopped abruptly. She heard footsteps walking determinedly down the hall.
Some homeowners might have stopped at that point to struggle with the dead bolt, but not in this house. No, the door swung open unlocked, the handle held by a man unafraid of the possibility, however remote, of someone with ill intentions darkening his doorstep.
"Jess?" Clark Kent said with obvious surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"I've left Roger," Jessica replied. "May I come in?"
Clark's mouth dropped open and his eyes went wide. He stared at her numbly, but nodded his head.
"Of course, of course." He stood to one side, allowing her to strut inside on her towering high heels, and closed the door behind them.
As Jessica walked down the hallway, her eyes scanned the walls. Amongst the photos of Clark in his Superman guise and of Clark at the Academy Awards, she found the one framed black-and-white that she was looking for; her and Roger on a double date with Clark and Cinderella, Clark's ladyfriend of the time.
"Good times." Jessica said with a wry smile, not realising that she'd come to a stop standing next to the photo.
"Yeah, until Cindi gave me my walking papers..." Clark said, laying a gentle hand on Jessica's bare shoulder. She glanced at him. "Jess, what's going on?"
"...Do you have anything to drink, Clark?" She asked, pulling away and walking into the cavernous lounge, the only room in the house that was lit. The golden light bounced warmly off the curves of her body; an observation that Clark was in the habit of trying to ignore.
"Uh, yeah. Yeah. I was just helping myself to a scotch." He said, following after her. He was dressed in a smoking jacket and slippers, and a copy of
The Collected Works of Nietzsche
sat bookmarked on the table next to a leather armchair.
"Spare a lady a scotch and soda?" Jessica asked, running her fingers over the gilded lettering on the book's cover, before adding, "On the rocks...with ice."
"Don't worry, I've mixed enough drinks to know what 'on the rocks' means." Clark said as he ambled over to the drinks cabinet.
"Sorry," Jessica said. "Obviously I've been working in too many toon clubs."
"No problem," Clark said, plucking the ice from its bucket. "Now, please...what's going on with you and Roger?"
Jessica didn't seem to hear the question, or simply ignored it, as she continued to amble around the room, absently looking at all the framed photos.
"Do you ever keep in touch with Lois?" She asked, staring at a picture from the set of the Fleischer Studios
Superman
shorts.
"She's doing radio work over in New York these days," Clark replied, pouring the whiskey. "We catch up whenever she's in town but we never really had all that much in common."
"And the directing?" Jessica asked. "How's that?"
"Well...work is work." Clark said. Ever since the Superman films had come to an end, he'd been finding it hard to get any work on-camera. He'd been working behind the scenes the past few years under the pseudonym Kent Dalton.
Clark turned, two glasses in his hands, to find Jessica holding one of the pictures, scrutinising it after having pulled it down from the wall.
It was a photo from the lounge act days. Over ten years ago, he and Roger had been doing some moonlighting as a comedy duo. It was an act that the press would eventually dub the 'toon equivalent of Martin and Lewis', but in those days it was just a bit of fun, with Clark playing the straight man and Roger, as always, the wacky clown.
The picture Jessica held in her gloved hand was a promo shot, featuring the voluptuous redhead the duo would fight over as part of the routine. Given how good a friend Clark was to not only Roger but Jessica as well, it was only a natural to include her in the act.
The three of them beamed out from the sepia-toned photo, their lives so wonderfully uncomplicated. Jessica couldn't help but notice the sharp contrast between the grinning girl in the picture and the face that reflected back at her in the glass frame.
"Your drink." Clark said as he sidled up next to her.
"Thank you." Jessica said, taking the glass and putting the photograph down. She pressed her lips to the rim and took a sip.
"You going to tell me what the problem is?"
For a moment, Jessica stared deep into his eyes and Clark was overcome. But then she turned, strolling over to the brown leather couch where she perched on the edge of the seat, her stole sinking in behind her.
"I heard they were talking about doing a new Superman series. For TV." She said.
"Yeah...but live action," Clark replied, sitting down beside her. Without realising it, he took a large swig from his glass, the whiskey hot in his chest. "No place for a toon."
"It really is hard, isn't it?" Jessica said. "Being a human toon in this world...not quite belonging to either side."
"You got that right," Clark said, taking another hit. "It's been tough, Jess, I won't lie to you. Sure, I'm directing, but it's all small stuff. Mostly commercials, all of them featuring toons. They got me pegged in a box I can't leap my way out of. I'm paying the bills, but I'm hardly living the life. It's not like it used to be."
"No. No, it's not." Jessica said, glancing back over at the photo of her, Clark and Roger. Clark, noticing where she was looking, took her by the hand.
