tagCelebrities & Fan FictionJessica Rabbit: Summer Rain

Jessica Rabbit: Summer Rain


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.


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.

"Enough games now," he said. "Tell me."

Jessica drew in a breath. Held it. She turned her head to look out the glass doors leading onto Clark's balcony. Hollywood lay spread out beneath them, glittering in the dark.

"I can't keep doing this anymore." She said, breathing out.

"Doing what?"

"Acting like everything is okay," she said, turning her gaze to Clark. "Acting like I'm still in love with him. Like I'm in love with a child."

"A child?"

"He is. He's a child, and I'm his nursemaid," Jessica said, bitterness creeping into her words. "I've had to sacrifice so much for him. My dreams, my career, any hint of a sex life..."

Clark almost choked on his drink.

"What?" He blurted.

"All I'm doing is spinning my wheels," Jessica said. "Stuck in a two-bit club singing for deadbeats and lowlifes. Oh, sure, Roger will toss me the occasional bone of a walk-on role in one of his shorts, but that's only to offset the jealous breakdowns he has every time a director even considers casting me in something without him..."

"That's terrible, but, uh...not what I was asking about," Clark said gently. "How exactly have you sacrificed your sex life?"

"Oh, come on, Clark. Think about it." Jessica said, growing more agitated by the moment. Her glass was already more than half-empty as she took another sip, downing it faster than Clark could keep up with.

"Think about what?"

"Roger was always a sweetheart, but his innocence borders on naivete. He thinks playing pattycake is like getting to third base!"

"But...you always gave the impression that he was an ace. A real stud." Clark said, thinking back on all the times he'd secretly wondered to himself how a guy like Roger could possibly get a girl like Jessica, let alone keep her around.

Jessica sighed. Looked away.

"He's a eunuch." She said.


"He's not packing any heat. He doesn't have anything...down there."

"Really? But---"

"What goofy toon does, Clark?" Jessica said. "There's a reason most of them don't wear any pants."

"That---that really blows my lid, Jess. Right off. I never even knew!"

"Well, can you blame me if I didn't want people knowing?"

"So there was never any...intimacy...between the two of you?"

"When we were first going out, we would kiss and I'd spend the next two hours bringing Roger back to consciousness. He'd do the whole bit, with the alarm sirens going off and his head bursting like a steam engine. People think it's an act when it happens in the films but it's how he really reacts, and while it was sweet and charming to begin with it gets tiring after years of marriage. I can't imagine what would happen if I were to actually try fucking him. Not that I could..."

Jessica looked across at Clark, who was staring at his drink as he swirled the glass in his hand.

"I'm sorry. That was vulgar."

"Not at all. I just don't know what to say. He's still a pal of mine. But..."


"Well, if things were like that..." he said, looking up to fix her with his eyes. "Why would you marry him in the first place?"

"Because he made me laugh. Because he was fun to be with. Because I felt safe with him," Jessica said. "Just before I met Roger -- and I mean about the week before -- I had met a man. A real man. A human. I didn't know him for very long, but he was the most incredible..." Jessica trailed off

"The bottom line is, I got my hopes up, and something bad happened, and Roger was there to pick up the pieces, without even realising that that was what he was doing. Our relationship...it felt safe. It felt like a way to never be hurt again. To never put anything at risk. I've learnt pretty quickly, however, that without any risk..."

"...You don't have any passion either." Clark said, finishing her thought, to which Jessica nodded sadly. "If you don't mind my saying though, you seem pretty, well...agitated. There's not something else that's----?"

Clark didn't even need to ask the question. Jessica's stiff body language said enough. Something had definitely happened.

"He's been away the past month," Jessica said. "The studio got a tax break for filming in Canada so they've been shooting on location. He called me this afternoon. Told me he'd met a minx onset. A literal toon minx. They've been playing hopscotch the past fortnight. Hopscotch!"

Jessica's tone conveyed a significance that Clark didn't fully understand. Jessica looked up at him expectantly, her eyes verging on tears.

"You mean..." Clark said, trying to wrap his head around. "...that's like Roger having..."

"An affair?" Jessica said, her lips twisting from the sourness of the word. "Yes. Exactly."

"But he's not," Clark said. "Not really. Not if he doesn't have any..."

"To him it is!" Jessica snapped, the tears running down her cheeks now. "To him, he may as well be fucking the bitch doggystyle every night!"

"Ah boy," Clark said heavily. Unsure of what else to do, he put a consoling hand on Jessica's shoulder. She leaned into it, resting her head on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Jess."

"He says it doesn't mean anything, and that he's sorry, but...what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to feel? I've done everything for him, and this is how he repays me? I should have let Doom have him!" Jessica said, referring to the events of Roger's being framed for murder that had become Toontown legend in the ensuing years.

Clark couldn't help but be shocked by the sentiment. Jessica looked at him under from her brow, finishing off her drink as she wiped away her tears.

"Of course I don't mean that. But you know..." She said, swallowing her last sip. "...It's hard not to be mad."

"Sure," Clark said. "That's understandable."

Jessica exhaled.

"Why couldn't I have fallen for someone like you, Clark?" She said. Clark, stunned for the second time in as many moments, struggled for something to say. He needn't have bothered as Jessica continued, "I mean, really, you're perfect. A toon like me, drawn like a human, a perfect physical specimen in primary colours. I bet you have a dick, don't you?"

"Huh---." Clark choked in an incredulous laugh. "You know I do."

"Oh, of course," Jessica replied, thinking back to the holiday that she, Roger, Clark and Cinderella had taken to Mexico and the drunken evening that had culminated in some innocent skinny dipping. Roger, of course, had been knocked out cold by the tiniest sip of liquor. "If I remember correctly -- and it's hard to say, given how dark it was -- but you have a lot to be proud of in that department, don't you?"

"Jess." Clark said gently, as if her name was enough to snap her out of whatever line of reasoning she was following.

"I'm sorry, Clark. I don't mean to embarrass you. It's just -- it's been so long. I'm starving for attention, I really am. And I don't think it's wrong to say that I've always found you very attractive..."

She looked at him now out of the corner of her half-lidded eye. He had the same sensible hairstyle he sported in the movies when he was dressed in his civilian identity but, in not wearing any eyeglasses, his piercing gaze was unobscured.

Though his jacket was by no means as form-fitting as the blue costume he was famous for wearing, it nevertheless showed off the athletic physique that Jessica had thought of on so many lonely, unfulfilled nights...

"You did? I mean...you do?" Clark said, his heart leaping at the prospect.

He tried to ignore it, tried to think of his buddy Roger and how he must have been feeling at the moment, but as he looked at Jessica he couldn't help but reflect on all the glances he'd stolen of her, all the times he'd gone home after spending time with the couple to while away the rest of the night thinking of Jessica, the curves of her body, the sumptuous sheen of her lips...

He didn't even realise how close they were drawing to one another, how their bodies sparked against one another as they mouths came closer and closer together.

"Sometimes, Clark...sometimes I wish I'd met you first."

They kissed, her loveheart lips on his, his strong hands pulling her in tight before going slack as he pushed himself away.

"We can't do this," he said. "Roger is one of my...he is my best friend."

His tone was slightly desperate, almost consolatory, but it seemed mostly to be melancholy.

"You're right, Clark. I'm sorry. I'm just...I'm in a bad place..." Jessica said.

"That's okay. It was my fault. I shouldn't have..." Clark's sentence trailed off as he lost himself in the ocean green depths of the one beautifully animated eye unobscured by Jessica's signature peek-a-boo hairstyle. His expression alone set off Jessica's sense of guilt, as if adultery could be committed with a simple look.

"I need some air." She said, rising up from the couch. Clark sat frozen, his base instincts seizing control as he lost himself to the pendulum swing of Jessica's derriere and the bongo beat of her bouncing breasts as she slunk across the room.

She reached the balcony doors and slid them open, letting herself out into the warm night air. She stood staring down at the golden jewel of Hollywood below and the silver flashes of lightning above. When Clark joined her on the balcony she felt surprised, relieved and, more than anything else...hungry.

"Storm's on its way," she said. "Looks to be a big one."

"Jessica..." Clark said, his tone hushed but firm. An adult tone. The kind of voice she never heard at home...

"I shouldn't have come here tonight." She said without looking at him. She wrapped her arms around herself, her breasts pressing tightly together. She felt his hands heavy on her shoulders and she leaned back, his body firm against hers.

They stood there quietly, the shimmering light of their toon bodies illuminating the dark, making them beacons in the night. Finally Jessica turned, looking up into his face to find his expression inscrutable. He was taller than she was, but only a little. She was able to press her lips to his without having to go up on her tiptoes.

She drew back from him, her voice low but urgent.

"I'm tired of trying to be good. I want to be bad, Clark," she said. "Please, I want to be bad! Won't you be bad with me?"

"Oh, Jessica...that's all I've ever wanted." He said, running his hands down her back and pulling her in close.

Their kiss this time was deep and ravenous, tongues entwining and hands running all over each other's bodies. Thunder boomed in the distance and lightning flashed with the same kind of pulse-pounding charge that was running through the both of them.

Years of repressed desire now bubbled up from deep within them, powering the passion of their embrace. As if to quell their fire, the heavens suddenly opened up in a torrent of rain. It fell from the skies thick and fluid, but still warm, and as Clark moved to take Jessica inside, she stopped him.

"No. We're not watercolours. We won't run," she said. "I want you now, out here. I want you in the rain!" She leaned up and kissed him again, the rain spattering on her cleavage, her quickly slickening hair cascading down her back in a waterfall of crimson.

Clark responded by crushing his mouth to hers as he ripped off his jacket and shirt to leave himself exposed to the downpour. Jessica gurgled with appreciation, massaging his muscles as she planted suckling kisses all over his torso.

He took her in his arms, tasting her lips, her mouth, her skin, all with insatiable need.

His hands found her rear, cupped it, squeezed it, pulled her closer into him so that he could feel the soft crush of her breasts against his bare skin, the rise of his trapped member pressing against the warmth of her.

"Clark! Oh, Clark!" Jessica breathed. "I need you! I need you to -- to -- tear my dress, Clark. Tear it right off me!"

She expected him to hesitate, to need cajoling, but instead he demonstrated the determination that had characterised everything he had done in years past as, with Superman strength, he ripped her dress from her body, the material tearing with a cartoonish sound effect.

Rrrrrrppp! The red gown was tossed to the side no sooner than it had been pulled from her body, and she stood revealed before him, her breasts free to be licked by the rain, her entire body bare save for the gloves and shoes she still wore.

Clark couldn't help but murmur with gratitude and awe as he looked her up and down.

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