A/N: Remember, she's not bad… but she is definitely drawn that way, so sit back, relax, and enjoy:

Dial 'J' For Jessica

The Cottontail.

Before the harrowing events spearheaded by the thankfully late Judge Doom, the existence of a such a place might never have been conceived, but the ending to that debacle, the ending to a coupe to virtually 'kill' all Toons, had led to something of a renaissance, an uprising, a rippling wave that encouraged and reminded every single Toon that they had a voice and that they were just as important as their human counterparts.

Perhaps the most affected by all of this was none other than notorious sex symbol, Jessica Rabbit, who felt her talents were being wasted at the Ink and Paint Club. True, the money was good and she never wanted for much—especially not when she had all that she could ever desire in the most wonderful husband that ever existed.

Goofy, cute, soft, warm—all perfect descriptions of her husband, Roger Rabbit, a comedic master of laughs.

Even thinking about him now was enough to get her all flushed and bothered, and she loved it. She loved him. Which was why after they both survived Judge Doom's dreaded Dip Machine, she knew she had to leave the Ink and Paint Club. She knew she had to get out there and make full use of her bodacious talents.

She confided these aspirations with the one man who always had her back, her husband, and not only was Roger supportive of her wishes, he even told her to take as much time off as she needed to get her affairs in order. In fact, she could have just became a stay-at-home wife at that point if that's what she fancied, since her husband was a very wealthy household name, but sitting around like a sexy bump on a log didn't sit well with Jessica even in a hypothetical way.

The drive was there, that uncontrollable yearning to be great, to rise above the tawdry societal expectations tacked onto one with her sinful looks… she just needed the perfect idea to bounce those urges off of.

And then it hit her in the most unusual way.

Ever since quitting her previous job, Jessica spent the next couple of months merely perfecting her already mythical cooking skills and gaining a taste for the role of the 'doting wife', and since she loved her husband, oh, it fit her like a silk glove. She loved cooking for him, greeting him at the door in whatever outfit he wanted, she loved the whole thing.

She remembered it like it was yesterday. Roger had called her from work on his break, like he normally did, only this time, she could tell he was a bit bothered, stressed out really, and she knew why. The movie he was filming with Baby Herman was going through all sorts of development hell from funding disagreements to constant script changes. Her poor little rabbit had quite literally pulled himself bald numerous times over it….

"Can you feel that, darling?" she had whispered to him through the phone, spurred on by a sudden wave of inspiration.

"I feel Baby Herman's cigar j-juh-jammed halfway up my b-butt!" Roger responded with a lengthy groan of pain. "That baby's got some real emotional problems!"

Most anything her husband said caused Jessica to spontaneously laugh, and this was by no means an exception, but her need to help him outweighed her weakened giggle-box and she leaned in closer, closing her eyes. "No, my little carrot cake… can you feel me? My hands? I'm giving you a shoulder rub, darling… nice and slow, just the way you like it."

There was silence on Roger's end for a couple seconds—but then he let loose a drawn out sigh laced with relaxation, and Jessica's heart fluttered. He was going along with it!

"Oh… oh w-wow, pattycake, that… that feels so good…."

"I know, darling, I know," Jessica responded, feeling her cheeks flush as an excited tingle ran the course of her spine, "but I need you to listen, okay? Listen to nothing but the sound of my voice… because now my hands are sliding down your back—"

Roger audibly shuddered on the other end of the line.

"—lower and lower, you can feel my fingernails dragging against your fur… and now my hands are sneaking around your waist, darling, oh yes… I'm flattening one hand flush with your stomach while the other keeps heading south, fiddling hungrily with your zipper…."

By the time Jessica hung up the phone, Roger had gone twenty minutes over his break, but he'd also cum in his suspenders. And he wasn't only one. Chest heaving, and with her crimson hair framing her face in limp straggles, Jessica sat back in her chair, wincing as the last throes of orgasmic pleasure made rounds through her shivering body. She couldn't believe it, that she'd actually just had phone sex with her husband….Up until that point, she'd no idea that words could invoke such raw emotions. The things she had whispered to him were so filthy, yet so hot, and the way Roger responded back so earnestly, perfectly in synch with his lustful wife….

The gentle sound of her essence dripping over the edge of the chair brought Jessica down from her orgasmic high just long enough for her to remove the hand wedged between her thighs and lift it up. She grinned at the fluids that thickly coated her fingers and brought them to her lips. Roger wasn't the only one who found the taste of her nectar to be addictive and she lashed at her fingers with her tongue, making sure not to waste a single drop.

"I know now," she uttered breathlessly, and she bit down on the knuckle of her pointing finger when a particularly strong wave of pleasure caused her toes to curl. "I know exactly what I'm going to do…."

Shortly thereafter, with Roger's help and a little bit of patience, the Cottontail was born. Marketed as a phone sex business comprised of an all Toon staff, they catered to both Toons and humans alike. Being the first of its kind within the relatively family-friendly confines of Toontown, no one had any serious belief that the Cottontail would survive for more than a few weeks, a month if it was lucky. Many assumed because of its openly risqué nature, the embarrassment of using such an establishment alone would be enough to ward away potential customers. While many told Jessica she was out of her depth and should go back to her job at the Ink and Paint, the rest merely laughed.

Oddly enough, some ten months later, the only one left laughing was Jessica as she rode the elevator of the Cottontail up to the top floor, her managerial suite. She was on the phone with Roger, unable to keep from giggling as he told her how he tripped, took down the whole set, and that somehow left Baby Herman with his head stuck up Yosemite Sam's rear.

"I swear I dunno how that happened—or why they all think it's my fault—but jeepers, that don't look too fun," he was saying frantically, and Jessica could tell her darling husband was in the midst of running for his life because she could hear an irate Yosemite in the background firing his pistols and threatening to make rabbit stew. "G-g-gotta go, pattycake, I love you!"

The line buzzed off with a comedic click and Jessica lovingly shook her head. "I love you, too, darling," she said softly, stowing her phone in her purse.

As the elevator continued to climb, Jessica pulled out a little mirror and glanced at herself. Her hair was perfect, her make-up was flawless, and her lips were as plump as ever, coated in her favorite shade of scarlet lipstick. While it was natural for Jessica to present herself as the goddess her doting husband revered her as, she also just liked looking the best that she could. She was drawn with the intention of causing men, and women, to swoon, to break their necks for a second glance, to have them drooling rivers… she was drawn to have every single other soul around her under her heel where they belonged.

And sometimes, she loved to honor that.

That's why she also took calls at the Cottontail. Because she enjoyed it. Because not a day went by that she didn't engage Roger in some form of verbal sex, whether through the phone or while they sat across from each other in the living room. She absolutely loved coming up with new ways to twist her words, new verbal pitches and sentence structures, whatever she could do to draw the most pleasure out of her husband, who was more often than not reduced to a puddle of his own fur afterwards.

"Y-you… you gotta lead the way with this, carrot cake," he had told her after one particularly passionate session that left him half on the couch, half on the floor and struggling to breath. "Your voice is great… really, really, really stupendous! You gotta set that standard for all the Toons who wanna work for you!"

At first, Jessica didn't like the idea of anyone else hearing her voice in that way outside of Roger, but he was adamant, more adamant than she had ever seen him; she would have thought he was trying to clear his name of murder again so great was the resolve in his bleary eyes.

He told her to be the bullhorn, the leader, the queen she was drawn as. She alone had the power to ensure whether this venture of hers soared or sank.

"And unless you're leadin' the boat, pattycake, it's gonna crash into some iceberg lettuce," he told her.

So, after laughing herself silly at his innocent mixup, she agreed, on the stipulation that the first call she took each and every day was his, to which Roger readily, happily, agreed.

The elevator came to a smooth stop with a 'bing', followed by Jessica's own voice saying, "Top floor, Mrs Rabbit."

Every time she heard that embarrassing greeting, she made a mental note to change it, but then she would remember that her husband had wanted it that way so he could further hear her voice when he visited, and then she'd just give a patient sigh of defeat.

"Only for you, my love."

The door opened and she stepped out into an office as grand as her stature: marble floors polished to a fine, reflective sheen, walls painted the same color as her hair and lined with service awards and trophies, while pictures taken with staff and previous employees sat upon shelves that Roger had personally made (which meant they were lopsided and constantly on the verge of falling, but Jessica loved them).

With a content little nod, she dropped her purse off on the hook next to the door, then sashayed over to the desk and took a delicate seat in the plush armchair. In front of her was a desk-wide calendar filled to the brim with shift schedules, public meetings, upcoming birthday parties, customer retention levels—all the things the CEO of a company was expected to keep track of.

"And don't I love it," she said wistfully, turning to her signature red phone.

As she waited, the crimson-haired vixen had to giggle. During the infancy days of Cottontail, rumors quickly began to fly that the CEO, that Jessica Rabbit herself, sometimes answered calls. In fact, so many men swore by this that the intrigue hit a fever pitch and was the main cause behind Cottontail's meteoric rise in popularity. Word of mouth really was the best advertisement. Not to mention the cheapest.

Naturally, once it seemed that the media would tear itself apart trying to find the truth, Jessica eventually revealed to them that, yes, even though who a caller linked up with was entirely random, sometimes a patron got lucky enough to have their ear graced by her seductive whisper. She mostly did it for quality control and to show newcomers the ropes, like how to say the introduction with just that right amount of spice, tips to break the ice, some visualization techniques—just all the little tidbits to ensure both the caller and operator enjoyed themselves to the fullest. Because, really, where was the joy in this if neither party was having fun?

"Here at Cottontail, we believe a relaxed and comfortable atmosphere is paramount in making sure both sides are able to cut loose and sink into their fantasies."

Despite that, despite taking her time with each and every Toon that Jessica hired who fit her extremely high standards, Jessica herself was consistently, without fail, voted as the Cottontail's best operator due to her tone, her mannerisms, her vocal artistry—many times the word 'flawless' was used to describe her sessions. And really, that only made sense. Not only did her previous job yield itself to her new line of work, but as Roger mentioned earlier, Jessica was quick to become a touchstone, the pinnacle of regality that her employees were all too eager to strive for and surpass.

"So what're you gonna call it, love cup?" Roger had asked her once she had the initial blueprints ironed out.

The normally sharp edge that twinkled in Jessica's eye softened considerably. All of a sudden, her office melted away like paint running down a canvass and she was thrown back in the past to the exact moment Roger had asked that question. She remembered it well, it still came to her in her dreams even… her adorable husband was on his knees before her, one hand cupping the heel of her foot while the other delicately painted her nails a fantastic shade of carrot orange.

At first, she had no answer. It was the last piece of the puzzle to her masterpiece, and it had her more stumped than Roger when he ran out of carrot juice. She had just opened her mouth to say she hadn't the foggiest what to call it when she noticed Roger's tail… it was wagging back and forth sporadically, and that made her smile. He was always at his happiest when he could pamper her, always smiled his hardest when she was relaxing due to his ministrations… just, God above, sometimes she forgot how truly blessed she was to have such a supportive and loving partner at her side.

"You and your silly little cottontail," she had mused out loud.

And then her eyes widened… her jaw dropped ever so slightly….

That was it!

"Oh, honey bunny!"

Just thinking about all the naughty things she had done to him that day under the feverish joy of finally having a business name was enough to get Jessica rubbing her thighs together in anticipation of her first call. She began drumming her fingers, eyes trained on her special phone, all the while struggling to ignore the urge to plunge two fingers deep into her throbbing honeypot.

"Come on, carrot cake," she urged, borderline whined, beginning to twist and turn in her chair. She was starting to get that itch, the burning tingling that started between her thighs and continued to fan out like a flame, engulfing her entire being in its erotic heat, and she never liked to be left in such a state for too long. It had the tendency to cloud her judgement, transform her from the soft-spoken yet ironclad Jessica Rabbit, owner and CEO of one of Toontown's most successful ventures, into some sort of husky-voiced, sex-starved addict who's only goal in life seemed to revolve around hungrily wringing as much tangy zest from her husband as she could like she wanted to use it as salad dressing.

It didn't take long for Jessica to find there was only way to stop her cravings when her mind started to play games like that, when all she could envision were things like covering her naughtier areas in whipped cream in anticipation for Roger to get home… yes, there was only one surefire solution—

—so when her specialized phone suddenly began to ring, a subtle smile curled the corners of Jessica's lips and she cleared her throat, reclaiming her air of dominance and regality. "Hello, my dear, lovable husband," she uttered longingly after picking up the receiver, and when she heard Roger swallow quite audibly, she graced his waiting ears with her erotic giggle, "it looks as though you've dialed 'J' for Jessica… are you ready?"

"Yes, p-pb-p-pleeeease."

That stutter of his was so cute, and he sounded as though he were clenching the phone for dear life, hanging on her every word, completely wrapped around her finger.

And she planned to honor that trust. She was going to give him the best session he had ever had, and then top that tomorrow, and then go even further day after that; it was going to be an endless cycle of pants-ruining pleasure for her husband, because he deserved it, because she loved seeing him that way.

She inhaled with a seasoned sexual flare, then puckered her lips for a wet "mwah", one that caused Roger to let slip a shuddered groan.

"Let's begin, my love."

A/N: #yearoftheoneshot