Jessica Rabbit

You wander your way inside "The Ink and Paint Club" after being let in off the street by a big toon bouncer gorilla in a tux... a sight not that uncommon being so close to toon town. Swinging open the door to a wide auditorium, you see a big, well-lit stage is faced by two dozen or more small tables. Well-dressed patrons line them, eagerly watching the curtain for the next performance. Waitresses in cocktail dresses, some of them toons, roam about delivering drinks and getting flirted up by the clientele. You sense the anticipation of the room, and take a seat at the nearest unoccupied table, wondering what kind of show you're in for.

Onto the stage steps Jessica Rabbit. The most beautiful redhead bombshell who begins a sultry performance, singing a song and strutting about the tables, flaunting her body, raising blood pressure and testosterone in equal measure across the room. She works the crowd like putty in her hands, before finally, teasingly, stepping back behind the curtain. The audience howls for more! But not able to linger any longer, you down the rest of your drink and get up to leave.

But before you grab your coat from the coat-check, you are yanked by a purple velvet glove behind an "Employees Only" door, leading backstage. Confused but not sensing any danger, you allow yourself to be taken. As you regain your balance, you look up and see none other than Jessica Rabbit herself, raising an eyebrow at you, her hands on her hips. "What's your hurry to leave? That bored with my little show?"

Standing in the dark alley behind the Ink and Paint Club after the show, you muse to yourself. That Jessica Rabbit is some woman. But as the events of the evening play quietly in your mind, a light turns on from one of the back rooms of the club. It's a simple matter to climb some creaking crates, and what can be seen inside is nothing short of damning. Jessica Rabbit herself... and studio mogul R.K. Maroon. They chat, at complete ease in each other's company. A bit too cozy. And then it starts. "PA-TTY CAKE, PA-TTY CAKE, BA-KERS MAN!" They start slow. Slapping their own hands and then each other's. So this was what she was up to without her husband around. This is why you never married. It isn't long before they pick up speed. "BAKE ME A CAKE AS FAST AS YOU CAN!~" The camera in your hands lets out a few audible snaps as the incriminating few photos get added to your collection. Ecstasy fills Jessica's voice. Her sultry bosom heaves as their hands collide with her own and R.K.'s again and again. Couldn't hurt to snap a couple extra... just for your own collection. They play at such a reckless pace now. Moans of pleasure leave Jessica's ruby-red lips as they finally reach the finish... their hands slap one final time and the final line spoken. Tired, sweaty, and exhausted from the vigorous extra-marital game of patty-cake, they leave each other's company. It's time for you to beat it before you're discovered. You've got all the evidence you need to take back to her husband, Roger. The poor toon. Exiting the alley, you can't shake the memory... she took off her elbow gloves before playing. The hussy. Not an ounce of protection. But before you get far, the back door flings open, and in it stands none other than Jessica. "STOP. You can't show that to Roger!" It's clear she knows exactly what you have on her. "...I'll do anything. Even..." Even...? "...Even... patty-cake." A smile crosses your face. Maybe a deal could be struck after all.

The smoldering Los Angeles heat fills your detective office. Your button-up shirt is soaked as sweat runs down your face. Days like today were not meant for being cooped up in some office. But before you can grab your things and leave, in struts none other than Jessica Rabbit. Wife of (former) esteemed actor... and alleged murderer of the head of his own cartoon studio. She wears a long brown trench coat, wide-brim hat, and dark shades as she steps in, surely keen to not draw attention to herself. With the scandal surrounding her husband and all. But the contrast in her attire and the current weather is surely no-less conspicuous than had she walked in wearing her usual sparkling, glitzy red performing dress. The coat does little to conceal her hourglass shape, and hangs precariously off her dramatic curves. She cuts right to the chase. "I want you to find Roger." That was rich. All of L.A. was keen on finding Mr. Prime Suspect. "He's innocent, you know. And I have every reason to believe he'll come straight to you. ...After what you've done..." Her contempt leaks through her sneered, full lips. It was true. You had shown him the photos. You were the reason he had the motive to off the guy in the first place. Though Jessica had as much blame to shoulder as anyone. "...I've prepared a payment." She takes a seat in the chair across from you, her sharp, cat-like, purple eyeshadow adorned eyes lock with yours as she lowers her sunglasses and sets them aside. and slowly crosses her legs seductively as she clutches the trenchcoat with both hands. From where you sit, there's no doubt about it. She is wearing nothing at all underneath. She gives you an eyeful of her beaver, as her long, slender leg deliberately and dramatically pivots over the other. Her tone and motions are unmistakable. She intends to "pay" you off-the-books. Looks like you'll be able to take your mind off this heat after all.