Authors: Hugh M. Hefner

Hef's Little Black Book (13 page)

BOOK: Hef's Little Black Book

11.73Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

ads

G
rotto Love Has Its Ups and Downs

In a certain sense, it’s like making love in a steam bath. The heat and humidity are nice initially but it limits your potential. Certain women, however, have expressed great fondness for the water jets. Historically, most of the lovemaking I’ve done in the Grotto has been foreplay that then led to the bedroom.

Oftentimes whenever sex started in his bedroom at either Mansion, he would flip a switch and a video camera—embedded in the wall, trained upon the action—began to capture the magic unfolding. He was always one to document his life, after all. “Early on, in a gadget-filled house, I recorded a lot of sexual adventures,” he would say, “but only with the participants’ knowledge and approval.” (After the technology had advanced, he and his partners could actually watch themselves carry on while they carried on, which did
require a good amount of neck-craning.) As he is who he is, voyeuristic proclivities such as these were his birthright, except he didn’t know it until his libido awoke during his marriage to Millie. It was in that period he asked his father to buy him a 16-millimeter projector for Christmas; his father would never suspect why, nor would Millie—until frequent screenings of stag films became part of their home entertaining. In no time, he became a connoisseur of the genre, as primitive as it was then. Duly inspired, just before starting a magazine that would embrace all things racy, he and his friend Eldon Sellers made their own stag film, very much on the sly, with a willing young woman.

Sellers, who was merely the accomplice, would recall: “He asked me to be involved, and I was all for it. It was his idea to call it
After the Masquerade Ball.
We wore masks—it was the funniest thing. Despite the masks, Hef was worried about someone recognizing him someday. So he asked me if I would take his place in close-ups—trade places with him, including some of the sex scenes, even though he was in ninety percent of them. Hef could talk anybody into anything if he tried.”

T
he Best Adult Videos Are All About You

The most erotic films, first of all, don’t have much plot and, second of all, have everything to do with the attractiveness to
you
of the participants and the attractiveness to
you
of the nature of the sexual activity.

As for the status of his vast library of Mansion Bedroom home videos, the news should sadden certain historians: “I got rid of them in the eighties. I thought it was time and didn’t want them falling into the wrong hands. Some of the women on the tapes were married with children by then, so we deep-sixed the tapes. Dumped them in the ocean. And even I don’t know the location. The tapes are gone, but the memories linger on.”

K
eep the Sandman in His Proper Place

It’s a good idea not to fall asleep while you’re actually having intercourse. Not very polite. It’s not a good idea to fall asleep in the middle of a conversation with a girlfriend, either.

Y
ou Need to Wake Up the Morning After the First Night with Some Class, Boys

Who was it that said that five minutes after he had sex, he wished the woman would turn into a poker table and five of his buddies?

I don’t agree. The period after orgasm—if you’re with somebody you care about—is a very sweet time. Cuddling is very important. In the morning, if it’s someone you’ve just been with for the first time, the last thing a girl wants to hear is “I’ll call you” when she thinks it’s not true. If it’s the first time, then what is looked for afterward is something sweet and romantic and reassuring, just the way it was before the sex.

H
ef’s Requisite Postcoital Meal

What I have to eat in the middle of the night, following sex: eggs sunny side up, with bacon, crisp. Hash brown potatoes. Buttered toast, grape jelly, a cold glass of milk, and applesauce. Followed by French toast. All served on a bed tray after sex, and then I sleep like a baby.

EPILOGUE

How to Live Long and Influence Playboys

M
ortality is the most unfair thing on the planet. All that makes it bearable is that it’s universal. Still, there’s a certain inequity in terms of when your time is up.

Truly, the key to longevity is taking care of yourself. But first and foremost, pick your parents with great care. Because if your parents live a long time, chances are you will, too. Also, stay out of hospitals. People die there.

To be Hef has ever been to defy odds. It is all in the genes. He came from strong genes, ones that encode long life. His mother lived to be a hundred and one years old. That alone would give him special hubris regarding mortality. His lifestyle gave him even more hubris in that regard: “Age is largely a number. If you are healthy, then how old you are has very little meaning.” In his seventh decade, after siring two fresh scions, after surviving a marriage that came apart, he would begin to sow oats anew, begin dating again, be seen out painting the City of Angels crimson, clubbing, as they say, be seen out dancing and dancing, and then dancing some more, with young, beautiful women. As he would say: “My life is every bit as good and maybe even a little better in my seventies than it has been in the decades past. That thought would have been inconceivable to me when I was younger. My golden years have really turned out to be
the
golden years.” He laughs last.

S
hel Silverstein on Explaining Why Hef Will Never Die

DEATH GOES TO THE MANSION

The late irrepressible poet, artist, singer, and longtime
Playboy
contributor—and beloved Mansion habitué—Shel Silverstein often spun yarns during board-game marathons and once, in the late sixties, crafted an extemporaneous lark about what would happen if the Grim Reaper dared to turn up at the doorstep of the Chicago Mansion, looking for the proprietor—the playboy of playboys who kept strange, impossible hours and had a famous dislike for keeping business appointments.

According to Silverstein, it would go something like this (as cribbed from an interview of long ago):

Well, it had to happen: It’s time for Hef to die. So Death comes to the Chicago Mansion and rings the bell. The butler answers the door and asks, “Is Mr. Hefner expecting you?”

“No, but I think he’ll see me,” Death tells him.

“I’m sorry, but Mr. Hefner’s not available now,” the butler says. “He’s busy. But feel free to leave any correspondence at the Playboy Building, and it’ll get to him.”

After hearing more protestations, after clearing it with Hef, the butler lets Death in. Dressed in full fatal shroud, Death enters, checks his scythe at the door, and sits down, waiting for Hef.

“Mr. Hefner was expecting you, after all,” the butler tells him, “but he’s been up for seventy-two hours straight and needs more sleep. He’ll be out in a couple of hours.”

Three hours later, the butler calls for Death, who’s been watching staff going in and out of Hef’s room carting trays of peanut butter sandwiches and mashed potatoes with gravy. Butler says, “Mr. Hefner is now looking at a movie that he really wanted to see, but he said he will be out as soon as the film ends. In the meantime, would you like a drink?”

Death says, “Well, I’ll take some Cognac.”

And the butler brings Death some Cognac.

Four hours and twelve Cognacs later, Hef emerges from his quarters. He says, “Buddy, I really am sort of tied up right now. But I’d love to sit down with you first thing in the morning. Grab something to eat. Play some music. Use the pool. Meet the girls. Have a good time.”

Death, now more than a little smashed, takes Hef’s advice and goes downstairs to the pool. He takes off his Reaper cloak and sends it through the house laundry service, where it’s immediately ironed. (This is Mansion Life, after all.) Meanwhile, the Mansion staff sharpens his scythe and stains the handle mahogany to match the rest of the house’s décor.

Soon, it’s time for the Bunnies to return from the Playboy Club. They jump in the pool, and Death swims nude with them, then starts ordering himself steak and champagne. Death is living the good life and thrilled about it. It’s what we do here.

Months and months and months go by. Death has long made himself at home at Hef’s. He’s beside himself with happiness, living in the Leather Room, dating Bunnies, swacked on Cognac and champagne daily.

Death finally bumps into Hef, having forgotten why he ever showed up. Hef says, “So you’re having fun, I hope.” Death, bleary-eyed, just smiles and orders another steak and another bottle of champagne and goes back to his room.

Moral: The world of Hugh M. Hefner can seduce even Death. Because his world is all about Life.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Very special gratitude is due to Mauro DiPreta, Joelle Yudin, Kim Lewis, Lorie Young, and Amy Hill at William Morrow; to Elizabeth Georgiou and the staff at
Playboy
’s Chicago Photo Library; to flawless archivist Steve Martinez at Playboy Mansion West; and to Josh Schollmeyer for his bravura editorial support throughout.

Copyright

All photographs are courtesy of Playboy Enterprises, Inc.

HEF’S LITTLE BLACK BOOK
. Copyright © 2004 by Playboy Enterprises, Inc. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

Adobe Digital Edition June 2009 ISBN 978-0-06-195763-5

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1