Fingers placed a pocket square into his business suit... before slipping in $500. Colonel Bart Bogart always kept big bills on him when he went into the city. It was obvious he received an ego stroking by reactions formed on the face of his mugger.
A dark pigmented hand gripped his shoulder and due to crime statistics of the area, he panicked. Colonel threw the man around until they faced. "Conrad Mulloy, I thought you were trouble!" C.M. nods, handing over his portfolio.
Colonel was inattentive until the drawing of a reddening anus. Every fantasy could come to life with a pencil and lots of pink watercolors. "You're hired!" Colonel handed his animator a flyer.
"House of Freaks? Looks like an ad for a Bordello."
"Yup! The kinky are the most unquenched, so they'll pay to gratify it." When Colonel started to lose his partner, he pointed towards a clerk. "Suppose he gets his kicks... tying a woman up, slapping her around. Maybe gagging her a bit."
"A bondage whore house? That sounds unethical..."
Colonel made fists when he felt Conrad devalorize his biz. He struck his ear then yelled into the bleeding canal. "Knock off the moral chatter! A weirdo doesn't want to hear he's a weirdo! Quite frankly, if a kiddie fiddler has a full wallet, I don't care HOW young the toon you have to draw is!"
Even if she ignored her hunger pain and "made it." Standards were plastic. Cartoons just made sense for fantasy. Especially kinky men's fantasies. Animated women didn't experience physical pain nor emotional scarring. They could never get fat, age or sag. Cartoons were CREATED for performance and human entertainment anyways.
"Now if me decking you hasn't turned you off from the deal. Take me to the Ink and Paint Club. I have to meet Jessica Rabbit"