Bunny Tales

by Izabella St. James

  The other guests included Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher with all of her daughters; Bruce Willis was also there with Brooke Burns and she was very friendly. She smiled as we all walked by, which I thought was very cool since most women, particularly at the side of a famous man, tend to snicker. I concluded that she was a happy, confident woman, as she should be. Of course we weren’t there too long before Hef decided it was time to go home. I didn’t mind; it’s not like I was allowed to have any fun so we might as well go home. As we were walking out, I saw Nicolas and made eye contact. He quickly came over and asked if we were leaving, and I nodded. We said good-bye. I was sad to leave. As we were walking out, Hef stopped to talk to Stephen Bing, who was formerly linked to Nicole Kidman and is the father of Elizabeth Hurley’s son. While we waited for Hef, we noticed Jack Nicholson standing by. Emma and I chatted with him for a while; he was witty, sharp, and charming. It’s so nice when someone you are a fan of turns out to be a cool person. After that night, Nicolas called me and invited me to dinner on Christmas Day. Not only was I sick with a cold, but my parents were also visiting from Canada. I didn’t call back immediately and by the time I was able to, it was too late. He had married some waitress he met. Although I wish him all the best, I regret not having dinner with him. There was just something about him. I guess it will have to remain a mystery.

  While I lived at the Playboy Mansion, there was one person that I did actually care for other than Justin. I met Gavin Maloof at my friend Jason Davis’ birthday party at the Beverly Hills restaurant Trader Vic’s. Jason called me all the time, asking me to come to lunch, coffee, or anything, but most of the time I couldn’t because of Mansion obligations. But for his birthday I wanted to make an effort, so Emma and I went over at 8 p.m., knowing full well that we had to be home in an hour. By the time all of the guests arrived, it was time for us to go home. But I just didn’t want to leave; Jason was so happy that we came, and we were actually having fun, so I decided we should stay for the appetizers and deal with the consequences later. When we were seated, I was beside Jason, Emma next to me, and George Maloof next to her. We had met George during the fiftieth anniversary of Playboy celebration at the Palms. As the owner of the Palms Casino Resort, he was our host, so we reminisced about the weekend. As we sat down, Jason started opening his gifts. He opened one that was a basketball signed by the Sacramento Kings and a Kings warm-up suit; besides the Palms, the Maloofs own the Sacramento Kings, among other things. Emma and I thought the suit was very nice, and I said something about wanting one. The person who gave him the gift, George’s brother, Gavin, immediately took notice and asked me to write down our address and he would have something sent to us. I wrote down our Mansion address but did not really think we would hear from him. A few days later a package arrived from the Kings with a couple of hats and two tracksuits. I was pleasantly surprised. Gavin called to make sure we got it. We chatted briefly, and he said he wanted to have dinner next time he was in town. For the next year and a half, Gavin and I saw each other occasionally, mostly for dinner. I never worried about getting “caught” because I was not sleeping with him. I was simply having dinner with a man I found to be interesting and kind. One night we were having dinner at Koi when I saw Playmate Jennifer Walcott at the table next to us. I also found out that Gavin’s brother Joe went on a date with another Playmate, so I knew it was just a matter of time before rumors began circulating.

  In February 2004, Emma told me she wanted to go work as a model at the Magic Clothing Convention in Las Vegas. She told me I could work with her, but first we had to get Hef to agree to let us go. I thought it would be a great opportunity to see Gavin, who had invited me to Vegas countless times. We had to get psyched up to go ask Hef; it was a big deal because he hated to let Girlfriends go out of town for any reason and rarely agreed to it. We told him that it was a clothing convention and we would be modeling and that our flight and room was paid for—which was true. Hef looked at us with suspicion, and then told me that he heard I was dating one of the Maloof brothers but that of course he did not believe it was true. I thought it was strange that if he heard it previously, he never came to ask me about it. But I guess he felt it was appropriate to bring it up now since we were going to Vegas and the Maloofs owned a casino resort there. It was his way of asking if I was going to stay at the Palms and see Gavin. I reassured Hef that nothing was going on, and he very reluctantly agreed to let us go. We could not believe it.

  When we arrived in Vegas, we went straight to the convention. To my surprise, Emma’s modeling job was with Hustler clothing. Oh my God! I couldn’t believe she failed to mention that important detail to me. I also found out that she had worked with Hustler before. Hef would die if he saw her donning Hustler gear, I thought. I had no choice but to hang out, so I put a Hustler tank top on and stood there looking pretty for three hours. Don’t get me wrong, everyone from Hustler was very nice and friendly, and we did not discuss our Playboy connection, but I was sure Hef would freak out if he knew, so it made me very uncomfortable the whole time. While Emma worked at the convention over the next two days with another of Hef’s ex-Girlfriends, Lea, I stayed at the hotel. I just couldn’t betray Hef to that degree.

  The first night when we went to the Hard Rock hotel to check in, we found out that they had already given our room away because we arrived late. I called Gavin, who immediately sent a limo to pick us up and told me to go to the VIP check-in at the Venetian and they would take care of us. We got our room key and entered the most beautiful room I had ever stayed at, even when we traveled with Hef. It was a two-bedroom high-roller suite, and it was stunning. I had my own huge bedroom with two bathrooms and a gym, and Emma—and Lea, who came with us—had their own two-bed luxurious bedroom. It was amazing. We ordered dinner and ate in our dining room and met Gavin afterward. He took us to see Eminem, whom Emma and I both love, at a private show, and then we partied into the wee hours of the morning at Ghostbar at the Palms, where Eminem later showed up. He got on the bar and started spraying people with alcohol. Gavin told me Eminem was staying at the Real World suite at the Palms, so named because that is where the Las Vegas season of MTV’s The Real World was filmed. It was a wild night! The next night I ended up going gambling with Gavin; he taught me how to play Baccarat and gave me some chips to play with, though he was making all of the decisions. I ended up winning $7,500! We cashed in our chips, and I turned to give him the money, but he told me to keep it because I had won it. I could not believe his generosity! That was the equivalent of seven and a half weeks at the Mansion! We had to fight with Hef to get our allowance sometimes, and here was Gavin giving me all of this money and expecting nothing in return. Though I was attracted to Gavin, nothing happened between us other than a kiss. He dropped me off at the Venetian, and I ran up to see the other girls. I didn’t tell them about the money because I didn’t want them to feel bad that they did not have the same luck.

  When we got back to the Mansion, we got in trouble. Hef called us in and asked how we could afford to stay in a room that was thousands of dollars per night. Apparently he already knew that Gavin was taking care of the room. We had told Hef before we left that we were staying at the Hard Rock hotel, and that it would be paid for by the company we would be working for. But when we could not stay at the Hard Rock, we called him to tell him we got a room at the Venetian instead, but we certainly never gave him any details of which room or who took care of it for us. I don’t know how he found out, but I guess a little birdie called the Venetian and asked about our room. Hmm, who could it be? I didn’t care either way. If he kicked me out for it, it still would have been worth it. Though Hef was generous with some things, Gavin’s kindness, without any strings, changed the way I viewed Hef. He bought us boobs, which we wanted, but never really did anything that would have a permanent, positive impact on our lives. It was a matter of weeks before I would leave the Mansion.

  Despite the fact that I constantly was hit on and met many men, and despite the fact th
at I had lunch or dinner with several people, I never slept with any of them. Not one. Justin and I hooked up a couple of times, but I wanted to wait to be intimate with him again until after I moved out of the Mansion. I wanted to see what happened between us when I left, whether we were going to give a relationship another chance or we would just remain best friends. And the only other person I had been intimate with a few times, as previously explained, was Hef. That was it. It is so strange and ironic to realize that the two years I lived at the Playboy Mansion were the years I had the least sex ever. I think I just did not want to complicate my life any more than it already was. I was living with one man, I still loved another, and while I was intrigued with Nicolas Cage and cared for Gavin, neither of these relationships had a chance to develop. Other than my amazing night out with the rock star, I didn’t even kiss any other boys! Wild and crazy Playboy Mansion? Yeah, right! I may as well have lived in a convent.

  14: What Happens in the Grotto...

  “When a fantasy turns you on, you’re obligated to God and nature to start doing it right away.”

  —Stewart Brand

  What happens in the Grotto does not stay in the Grotto; it ends up on these pages. With that promising introduction, I now must tell you that not much happened in the Grotto during the two and a half years I was at the Mansion. I think the Grotto’s finest memories come from the swinging ’70s, and thankfully the water has been changed since then. I always hoped that the Grotto would live up to its reputation and get some worthy action during the parties, but all that would happen was a bunch of naked guys would get in and hope for the girls to follow. And these were usually the same guys that by some stroke of luck had gotten on the party list and knew this probably would not happen ever again, so for bragging rights, they had to get in the Grotto just so they could say they did and maybe, just maybe, some drunken hottie would get in and make their fantasies come true. I understand their hopes. Oftentimes toward the end of the parties (and yes, we checked regularly on the progress), a couple of girls would find themselves in there and make out with some willing guy. But there was never an orgy or any blatant sexual activity. Perhaps there could have been, but by the time people were ready for that kind of licentiousness, security would ask everyone to leave.

  As for celebrities, I have seen many go in and ogle but not dare get in. I can’t blame them; as soon as they dip their big toe in the water, the tabloids will be reporting the wild orgy they participated in. And this I know from experience. When Emma visited her mother country—jolly old England, where I am told they love the gossip—she decided to make some pocket change and gave an interview about life at the Mansion. She told the story of how Justin Timberlake got into the Grotto and partied with several naked girls as Cameron Diaz watched. The real story—as I mentioned previously—is quite different. Let me begin by saying that Cameron Diaz was not even there when he was, and this was before they started dating. Emma had a major crush on Mr. JT, so all night we talked to him and his pal, who suggested we all go in the Grotto. Of course we pursued the idea; hey, if there was any chance of getting JT in the Grotto, we were going to try. As the night progressed, JT’s pal did end up going to the Grotto with a couple of girls, but Mr. JT remained fully clothed in his memorable “Who’s afraid of a little pussy” T-shirt. If my own gal pal can exaggerate the truth, many more can and do. Emma’s tabloid feature led to a major fight within the group, and Emma almost got kicked out. After being pressured by Holly to kick her out, Hef came to me and asked me what I thought he should do about Emma, and I saved her butt. I told him it was something we could move past, and hopefully she wouldn’t do anything like that in the future.

  My own personal experiences in the Grotto left much to be desired. There I was, a twenty-six-year-old red-blooded American (well, Canadian) girl who enjoyed sex. And the Playboy Mansion, more than anywhere else, is the House that Sex Built. The Grotto for me was Emma, myself, and a few Coronas on a regular week night ... fantasizing about what we would love to do in the Grotto. It’s really sad if you think about it: two young girls, getting drunk, wishing there were some boys around. When we got desperate for male attention, we would call the pantry and order more drinks to be delivered to the Grotto just so we could splash and tease the butler. Desperate times called for desperate measures!

  During the entire time I lived at the Mansion, Hef went to the Grotto three times. And unfortunately, or fortunately, for me, I missed all three of those times. The first time, after the usual Friday night out (I stayed in sick) and heavy drinking, the girls managed to convince Hef to go to the Grotto. According to the report I received in the morning, Hef remained sitting while having sex with Holly and Bridget, as the other girls provided visual stimulation by splashing around and touching themselves and each other. It was short-lived; I don’t think Hef can remain in the hot waters of the Grotto for too long because of his heart (he had a stroke in the 1980s), and that is why the Grotto excursions were so infrequent. The other two times happened right before we (Emma, Susan, and I) left the Mansion. It was part of Holly and Bridget’s master plan to exclude us and show Hef what a wild time they could give him without us. So along with the new recruit, eighteen-year-old Kendra, they snuck down there and did what they did.

  For me, though, the Grotto remains an elusive fantasy.

  15: House Parties.

  “No party is any fun unless seasoned with folly.”

  —Desiderius Erasmus

  Who doesn’t like a good party? Parties at the Playboy Mansion were a lot of fun. Hef spends more than a million dollars a year to entertain his guests and himself. The Mansion was always transformed into a magical place according to the theme of the party. Many people would work day and night to get the place ready, and the transformation was incredible. The Mansion also has a self-contained kitchen that provides food for more than a thousand guests; the Mansion chef does all of the catering at the parties. A great pad, fresh food, unlimited drinks, a gracious host, and beautiful guests—that was the standard.

  There are five annual parties at the Mansion, starting off with the New Year’s Eve bash, then the Mardi Gras party in February, followed by Hef’s birthday party in April, then the famous Midsummer Night’s Dream party in August, and finally, the most elaborate of them all, the Halloween party. Hef is a very generous and welcoming host. I think his first and foremost reason for hosting these parties is, as with everything else in his life, to promote the Playboy brand and to continue to live life according to the Playboy philosophy. The secondary reason is that Hef liked to invite hot young girls not only to enjoy as eye candy and hook up his aging friends but also to enjoy their gracious flirtations and to possibly recruit new members.

  Celebrities are a staple at Hef’s parties. Without the celebrities, the parties start to look like a gathering of Hef’s cronies trying to pick up girls who are way too young for them. The truth is, the girls come to meet the celebrities. The celebrities come because it’s a fun party where you know you are the center of attention and can have your pick of beautiful, accessible women. The other guys come because they know there will be only a few celebs, so most girls will have to settle for less. Some of the girls come for other girls. Many of the girls come to be noticed by Hef and become a Girlfriend or a Playmate. And everyone comes for the experience itself: to see and be seen, to say you were there, and to have fun.

  We, the Girlfriends, liked having the parties because we felt like it was our party. I loved the convenience of being able to go up to my room anytime there was a wardrobe malfunction or to fix my makeup. As soon as one party ended, we would begin thinking about what we would wear to the next one. There was extra pressure for Hef’s girls to wear spectacular, one-of-a-kind outfits, so we had to plan early. But we had fun with it; when sky is the limit, you can really allow yourself to be creative. As the Girlfriends, we felt obligated to have the best outfits. It is hard to keep things exciting and original, but we always had to set the standard. Usually we would beg
in by choosing a color or a theme: Moulin Rouge, Pussycat Dolls, or the like. From there, we would go about putting together the outfit. I always started with shoes.... What shoes do I want to wear all night as I walk over the pool area stones? Boots were usually the most comfortable, so I tried to build an outfit around boots. That usually meant something bad-girlish and sexy versus cute and sweet or angelic. It was so much fun. The only limitations to what we could be were our own imaginations. There is a certain freedom about dressing a part and acting out your fantasy.

  In the beginning we used to go out the night before the party, since Friday was our club night and the parties were always on Saturdays. Eventually we convinced Hef that going out the night before the party drained us of energy, and it became a tradition to stay in. The day of the party, we would take all day to get ready. It was a ritual: sleep in late, relax, have your hair and make-up done, get dressed. It was always exciting to see what the other girls were wearing. We would all meet in Hef’s room and make our big entrance downstairs. One after another we walked down the curved staircase, hoping not to trip and fall as the flashing light of the cameras and all the guests’ eyes were focused on us. We would then pose in the great hall for the official group party shot. Our arrival meant that the party had officially begun. We then made a second grand entrance, into the party tent, followed by a ceremonious walk to our table. We then sat in our hierarchical order, and that was supposed to be our basic station for the night.