Bunny Tales

by Izabella St. James

  Some Playmates even visit Hef’s bedroom in hopes of bettering their chances. Many girls think that sleeping with Hef will give them an edge over the competition. And there is good history to support that contention. After all, Brande Roderick and Dalene Curtis were his Girlfriends and then became PMOY. I would say that during the years I lived at the Mansion, half of the Playmates up for the title ended up in the bedroom. Though some only fooled around with the girls, many had sex with Hef. The reason I know it is connected to the PMOY title is that those girls never came up before the competition began, and they didn’t come up after they lost the title.

  Not only was the PMOY award good for Hef’s sex life but we, the Girlfriends, also benefited. All of a sudden gifts were coming in the mail, and the girls were stopping by with little tokens for all of us. But we didn’t have any influence on Hef, none of us, not even Holly, who is always in his ear. Yes, we told him who we thought was the prettiest and the nicest of the girls—not always one and the same. That is as far as it went. The Playmates always drilled us for information as to what Hef looks for and what they can do to better their chances. They were also more than willing to rat each other out; Playmates often gossiped about their competition and knew we would pass it on to Hef. I remember one year, a beautiful blonde whom I personally liked a lot was up for the title. All of a sudden this gossip about her drug use surfaced, followed by rumors of her sleeping with various men at the Playboy parties where she was supposed to be a hostess. Either way, Hef was uncomfortable with the image associated with her and she didn’t get the title. The most beautiful girl does not always get the prize. Neither does the nicest, most wholesome girl next door. It’s a combination of both qualities as well as star potential. If a girl goes on to land a movie role or a television job, it means added publicity for Playboy. Same with the guy she is dating; if she has a known beau, it raises publicity for her and Playboy.

  There are other factors such as age, family, and political considerations. January 2004 Playmate Aliyah Wolf is beautiful, but she had two things going against becoming PMOY: Her married name is Hussein and she has a child. The same with Playmate Stephanie Glasson, she also has a child and is thirty years old. She is a great girl, and we became friends, but I told her before her issue even came out that she would not be PMOY. Is it fair? Of course not. Hef claims to be an equal opportunity employer, but if you are nearing thirty and if you have a child, despite how beautiful and educated you are, you have no chance. Sometimes the PMOY choice is downright confusing. In 2002 Christina Santiago, who was a contestant on the reality show Playboy: Who Wants to be a Playboy Centerfold, became the PMOY. People could not understand how she could win the title; although a beautiful woman, she didn’t even win the show.

  Then there was the quiet, well-hidden Playmate scandal. Hef kept getting e-mails and phone calls from madams in Los Angeles that a few Playmates, including some of his former Girlfriends, were showing up on their rosters of high-priced hookers. This finally became a household controversy when some of the main candidates for Playmate of the Year were implicated. Hef met with them to discuss the issue, but despite their claim of innocence and non-involvement, he could not take the chance. The PMOY went to a girl who was not implicated. Hef really had no choice, and while the girl was beautiful, she essentially got the job because others were disqualified. Hef barely avoided it all going public, although there are a couple of articles on the Internet about it, and even Page Six of The New York Post recently reported that several models and Playboy Playmates are working as high-class escorts.

  I learned it all from one of the girls in the house; she had been approached about working for a madam, but since she could not, she was telling some Playmates looking for the extra work to call that madam. Apparently another madam found out that this girl was sending Playmates to her competition and she threatened the Girlfriend. She was scared that Hef would find out about it all, and she confided in me; she also told me some of the names of the Playmates and former Girlfriends who were involved. The truth is that a lot of them did work as escorts, particularly in other cities and often in foreign places such as Turkey or the Middle East. We even knew some of Hef’s ex-Girlfriends who bragged about how much money they were making. I stayed out of it all, not wanting to know too much. It was sad. For a lot of these girls the money is just too important to pass up; after they move out of the Mansion and cannot continue their standard of living on Playboy promotion jobs, they look for an easy way to make a buck. And apparently Playmates can charge a lot more than regular escorts because of their title. It isn’t just Playmates who get involved in becoming high-class escorts though. I attended parties where I heard about celebrity women getting paid huge amounts of money to have dinner or attend a party with—and even spend a night with—some oil billionaire in the Middle East. This is not to say that most Playmates are gold-diggers and escorts. In fact, most of the girls I met are beautiful, really nice, friendly, and fun girls.

  18: Fiftieth Anniversary of Playboy.

  “To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and to endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to leave the world a bit better whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.”

  —Ralph Waldo Emerson

  It was really special to be with Hef for the fiftieth anniversary of Playboy magazine. That is quite a milestone considering the humble beginnings of the magazine. He had been talking about the anniversary and all of the fun things we were going to do for months. The celebration started in August 2003, with a party at the Palms in Las Vegas. The drama began right away with the room assignments: Emma, Susan, and I had our own suite while Holly, Bridget, and Candy were to stay with Hef across the hall at the newly created “Hef suite,” which is now open to all Palms guests. I didn’t have a problem with the setup, but Emma and Susan felt it was unfair that he automatically assumed we didn’t want to be with him. Why couldn’t the other three have their own room? Of course the answer was Holly; Holly had to be with Hef and because Emma did not like Holly and vice versa, they could not be in the same room. It made perfect sense to me, but the inequity of the situation was really frustrating sometimes. I was excited to be out of the Mansion and did not want to focus on the silliness among the girls. We got dressed, took some pictures, and headed downstairs to an auction featuring Playboy memorabilia, including the famous Chicago round bed Hef used to hump on. We took some more photos and headed off to the street dedication ceremony for the “Honorary Hugh Hefner Drive.” When we walked outside, there was a beautiful vintage Cadillac waiting for us (it once belonged to Marilyn Monroe and now belongs to Gavin’s uncle, who kindly lent it out for the occasion). We drove in the car, like a procession, to the street corner a few feet away. It took a few minutes to go through the ceremony and unveil the street sign. Finally, we were off to Ghostbar for some drinks. Everybody, including dozens of Playmates, was already there, drinking and having fun. We realized we had not had dinner, so we went to the N9NE steakhouse at the Palms—my favorite restaurant in Vegas—for dinner. And we ended the night partying at the pool lounge Skin, where Paris Hilton joined us. She was very friendly with Hef; she sat on his lap for a photo and it made Holly so jealous. Holly actually told Hef that it bothered her when Paris came over to greet him and sat next to Hef in Holly’s place. Paris was always so carefree that she never noticed. Who cares if she sits by Hef for a minute to say hi and take a picture? Next, Paris asked us if we wanted a “wet pussy.” We looked at each other puzzled. It was a shot! Oh, okay, sure. So she went ahead and ordered “wet pussies” for everyone. We always run into Paris on the party circuit, and she is always friendly and sweet and likes to have fun.

  The next day we lay poolside all day while Hef conducted countless interviews in our cabana, occa
sionally calling us over when he needed his blonde props. We were bored. Who wants to lay around in an area roped off from the public and guarded by security? It was not fun. Increasingly we felt like some sort of Playboy promoters who were not getting paid for any of the work. While everyone else was bedazzled by their exclusive invitation to the hottest party in town, for us it was similar to being in a car commercial. We had to appear charming, and gracious, and showcase the product—in this case, Hef himself. He made a lot of money off us and we sat there, lonely and isolated.

  The second night we attended the premier of Zumanity, a Cirque du Soleil show that was absolutely fantastic. We sat right up front on the cozy little couches—Hef with Bridget and Holly on one, and Susan, Emma, and I on the other. Right before the closing act of the show, the emcee pulled Emma and I onto the stage to participate in the last act with them. It was a slow sensual dance. Our adrenaline skyrocketing, we began touching each other and moving our bodies erotically among the troupe, who welcomed us onto the stage. It was an amazingly liberating experience, and we got off the stage drunk with happiness. Holly rolled her eyes, but it didn’t affect us anymore. We stole the spotlight.

  We next went to dinner at the Voodoo Bar; we would have preferred to go somewhere else—Vegas has so many world-class restaurants—but we went there because Bridget, being a fan of horrors and all that is macabre, wanted to go there for the trademark drink, The Witches Brew. After the dinner, we were off to our big party at Rain Nightclub at the Palms. We were disappointed to discover that once again, we were isolated on our own balcony, our own little prison, far away from the celebrities and anyone that might actually be interesting to talk to. We could not just step over the rope and mingle—we would get in trouble with Hef. We weren’t even allowed to go the bathroom on our own. And so we proceeded to drink and dance and tried to have fun despite our restrictions. The only person we got to talk to was Tony Curtis, who was very nice and friendly and invited us to come visit him in Las Vegas. The only reason Hef tolerated Tony’s presence on his balcony was because Tony was with his sweet wife, Jill. Although when Hef noticed Tony talking to me a bit too much, he started getting irritated. It didn’t matter though because we left the party soon after.

  The fiftieth anniversary celebration continued with an official party at the Playboy Mansion in October. Although we had fun in Las Vegas and I knew we would have a great time on an upcoming trip to New York City, we were excited about having a people over at the Mansion. We were told that there would be musical performances, and it sounded like a lot of fun. In addition, the party at the Mansion was to be televised on A&E, which is a bonus for girls who enjoy attention.

  My own personal level of enthusiasm was low. After years of suffering from chronic and severe back pain, my mother was going to have a risky back surgery: an artificial disc replacement. She was so hopeful that this surgery would solve her pain that I looked forward to it, but I was also nervous. After all, this was a serious, highly invasive surgery. It was scheduled for the day of her birthday, September 24, the day before my own birthday. I wanted to go home for at least two weeks after the surgery to take care of her, but the party fell on October 4. This meant I would be able to take care of her only for a few days. I resented not being able to be there for my mom, but I was keenly aware of my obligations. The night before I left, I went to say goodbye to Hef and asked him for my allowance early. All he had to say to me was, “You know, since you won’t be here, you will not get your allowance next week when you get back.” I was stunned. Here I was, so anxious and scared for my mom, and he just wanted to make sure I was aware of what I would lose out on? I was not going to Club Med for crying out loud, I was going home to be with my mom for her surgery and take care of her afterward. I paid for the plane ticket, I had to book some lousy motel to stay at right by the hospital, and I would be spending my mom’s and my own birthday in a hospital waiting room, and here he was just making sure I knew that I was not going to get my allowance. I hated him at that moment. You would think that my boyfriend would offer to help somehow. He didn’t even have the courtesy to say something hopeful, something encouraging or kind. He just tried to make me feel guilty about not being at the Mansion for a week and was making sure I knew the punishment would be no allowance. What kind of a “boyfriend” was that? What kind of a “family” was this? I knew then that if he ever tried to use those words again, I would throw up.

  The week of my mom’s surgery was one of the hardest in my life. To wait for five hours was torture. To see her so weak and in so much pain tore me up inside. My dad drove up to see her right after her surgery, but he had to go back to work while I stayed behind. I was not allowed to be with her all day, so I stayed alone in my motel most of the time. The morning of my birthday I had breakfast by myself at the motel diner; it was the saddest, loneliest birthday, or any day, of my life. I waited to see my mom and spend a few hours with her before returning to my motel room. After a few days I was able to take my mom home; that was a two-hour trip, but she made it through the drive. I got her special needs equipment, bought groceries, and cooked for her. My dad was unable to take time off to care for her. I did everything I could before I left. I hated to leave her but swore I would be back very soon.

  My mom had waited so long to get the necessary treatment in Canada, only to undergo a horrendous surgery that did not help her condition. She was in pain immediately afterward and to this day does not know why her pain continues. It kills me to helplessly watch her suffer. Hef has access to the best medical care possible, but he never offered to help. I thought about writing Oprah a letter, like many people do on behalf of their mothers, so that she could help my mom figure out where the pain is coming from, and how to help her since the doctors in Canada are clueless and helpless to help her. So while my mom could not move out of bed, I was obliged to rush back to the Mansion so that there were enough blondes around to make Hef look good.

  I got back to the Mansion the night before the party. Needless to say, I wasn’t in a celebratory mood. I didn’t even bother to buy a new dress or do anything special. I put on a white dress that was already in my closet and did my own hair and makeup. Now, looking back, the party was soothing. I had been so sad and scared the previous few days that it was nice to release that tension, even temporarily. The show was hosted by the funny, foul-mouthed Jenny McCarthy. There was a cool performances by Blu Cantrell, and Kelly Osbourne performed a song by Cindy Lauper. Sharon Osbourne had been so sweet to us (she came to interview us for her show a few months later), that Hef felt bad that Kelly’s performance did not make it onto the air in the television special. I didn’t understand it; I thought she was great. Some of the other celebrities in attendance included Pamela Anderson, Anna Nicole Smith, and Paris and Nicky Hilton. Barbi Benton, Hef’s former longtime love, was also there. Hef stepped away for a while for a one-on-one conversation with Barbi. I thought it was charming that the two famous lovers were reunited, and I thought Barbi still looked cute. I ran into her and Gloria Allred as I was walking around the party and introduced myself. I told her that Hef speaks fondly of her. “See, I told you,” remarked Gloria Allred. “Oh no, he doesn’t,” replied Barbi with a girlish coyness. I was so tempted to engage Miss Allred in a legal conversation, but I resisted. She gave me her card, and at times I have been tempted to contact her, but I don’t know what to say. I wondered if she would be disappointed in me wasting my education or if she would understand that after years of schooling, I was trying something new.

  Holly was not amused. She threw a jealous fit that Hef and Barbi had that intimate moment. She harped on it for a couple of days and made Hef feel bad about it. She couldn’t believe he did that. She disappeared from the party for a while and then cried about it the next day. On one of the episodes of The Girls Next Door when Barbi comes to visit, Holly’s dislike is clearly visible and she tries to belittle Barbi by dismissing her as too old for Hef. Although I felt that Barbi was a little condescending toward the gi
rls, I think Holly’s attitude toward her was unfriendly from the very beginning. I didn’t understand it. I thought that Hef’s connection with Barbi was very special, and that it was wonderful that she could be there to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of Playboy with him. When I heard about Holly’s reaction I thought it was ridiculous. She constantly made Hef feel guilty about his ex-Girlfriends; she would pout, cry, and then go sleep in the game house to punish him for her own feelings of inadequacy.

  I thought she was also hostile to Kimberly Hefner. Whenever Kimberly came to greet Hef at parties or other events, Holly acted disrespectfully. I think she was jealous that the kids were an eternal connection between Hef and Kimberly. She constantly made negative remarks about the concept of marriage and family; I remember when we heard that one of Hef’s ex-Girlfriends and a Playmate had a baby and got engaged, Holly thought it was lame. I thought it was comical that she found going out to clubs twice a week and having to share her boyfriend with many women so much more meaningful. That is why when I heard the rumor this year that Hef was considering having a baby with Holly, I was skeptical. Since she cannot marry him—as he is still married to Kimberly—I think she figures the only other way to guarantee getting her hands on the inheritance is a baby. Holly must know a child by Hef would provide her with money and power, and she would finally feel up to par with Kim. The sad thing is that Holly seemed to me barely able to take care of her dogs, with the assistance of several staff. I never saw Holly demonstrate any type of maternal instinct or love. I heard her speak with disdain about family; she never once went to visit her parents while I lived at the Mansion. She also announced that she had no friends to visit at home or anywhere else, and no one ever visited her. I think Holly will make a terrific trophy wife for someone, but I cannot imagine her as a mother.