Sliding Into Home (13 page)

Adventure in Wonderland

After about a year of stripping, taking care of Zack, and paying all the bills, Zack and I went to the car show where the photographer approached me about taking professional shots. I agreed to do them mainly for Zack. I wanted him to have the photos of me and always remember how beautiful I was. There were a lot of very attractive women at those car shows and at the parties we would go to, and I know Zack’s eye wandered from time to time. But getting my boobs done and being told I was so beautiful every night at the strip club really boosted my confidence, so I felt good enough to take the photos.

I didn’t take them thinking anything would come of it. Even when the photographer posted them on the modeling Web site, I thought little of it, so when those shots were discovered by
Playboy
and I was asked to work Hef’s birthday party, I was shocked. (I was wearing my stripper clothes in those shots, by the way. It’s not like
Playboy
saw me in sweatpants and decided they had to have me.)

The whole time leading up to that night at the Mansion, my family had no idea I was stripping. My mom thought Zack was working hard and paying for everything. In fact, she still thinks that, unless she is reading this book right now—in which case, sorry, Mom.

She did know about my new boobs, though. I went from a small B to a full C, so clearly she was going to notice at some point. All the other strippers freaked out when they saw them on me for the first time, so you can imagine what my mom’s reaction would be when I told her: she was pissed! She said it was gross and trashy—and that was just over the phone when I broke the news. When I went home for Thanksgiving and she saw them for the first time, I could see the disappointment on her face. The boobs were new then and I was still really sore, but I refused to show any pain because the last thing I needed was an “I told you so” from her.

When I told her I was going to the Playboy Mansion she was even more upset. First, she didn’t believe that it was Hef who had called me. She thought it was some sort of trick. Beyond that, she hated the idea of me going there. She tried desperately to keep me away from the Mansion and told me every
Playboy
rumor she could think of to try to scare me into not going.

“You know they have all these wild orgies there,” she said. “Is that what you want to involve yourself in?”

The night of the party I knew my life was about to change. Nothing could have kept me from going. I’ve never been able to stay in one place for very long, and after nearly a year of living with Zack and stripping at Cheetah’s, I knew I was ready for something new.

I still loved Zack, though. He was a good boyfriend. We got along really well, and sex with him was the best I’d ever had. I think when you are in a real relationship the sex is always better—you trust each
other and open up in a way that you can’t with some guy who sells you drugs or a guy who rips your clothes off in a park—and Zack and I were in love. Everything about our relationship was real, but being at the Playboy Mansion that night for Hef’s birthday, I felt like something real was happening there, too.

That night was a lot of fun. Even though I wasn’t supposed to drink on the job, I snuck Jell-O shots when no one was looking and got pretty buzzed. I saw Jack Nicholson and said hello and when he said “hi” back I totally freaked out. It was the coolest thing ever!

There were some awkward moments—like when an older couple approached me and told me they were swingers and asked me if I “wanted to have some fun”—but I wasn’t going to let a few weirdos ruin my night. Everything was great once I ran into Tiffany Lang, a model I knew a little bit from San Diego. She was a painted girl, too, and had been at previous Mansion parties, so she showed me the ropes throughout the night. That was a huge relief because for the first time I actually felt young. When I was thirteen I wanted to hang out with twenty-year-olds—I was always that way—but that night at the Mansion, because I was out of my element I felt like a little girl. It showed me that there was room for me to grow and that there was a world outside San Diego that I needed to explore—and I felt like Hef was the guy who would help me with that.

After I left Hef that night, I walked down to the gates of the Mansion and met Zack, who was in his car waiting for me. Still covered in paint, I got in the passenger’s seat and braced myself for the two-hour ride back to San Diego.

“So, how was it?” he asked with a hint of jealousy in his voice.

“It was fun,” I told him. “I met a bunch of celebrities and served Jell-O shots, and that was really it.”

“Did all the guys hit on you?”

“Not really, no.”

“So, that’s
really
it?”

“Well, Hugh Hefner asked me to be his girlfriend again,” I said, nervously awaiting his reaction. “He wants me to come back to the Mansion this weekend for his real birthday.”

Silence. Zack didn’t say anything. He didn’t think I was serious. He certainly didn’t think Hef was for real. After a minute or two I changed the subject and we both brushed aside the
Playboy
talk. I didn’t have much more to say on the subject.

I’d gotten paid a couple hundred dollars to work the party that evening, but the weekend invitation would be just for fun, a social call. I had always been focused on making money, so to take a weekend to go to the Playboy Mansion as a guest was a big leap—but it was a leap I decided I was ready to take.

A couple of days later Hef called and we worked out the details. He would send a car for me because at that point my Eclipse had a few years on it and died all the time, and I didn’t really trust it to get me all the way to Los Angeles.

When the weekend rolled around, I just split. I didn’t bother going over the details with Zack again; I just hopped in the car and went.

A couple of hours later I was dropped off at the mansion and was soon totally lost. I was supposed to end up at the guesthouse, but I hadn’t seen much more than the gym and the backyard the night of the party, so I had no idea where I was supposed to go. Plus, everything looked so different in the daylight. I felt like Alice after she falls down the rabbit hole—although this Wonderland was populated by hot, topless bunnies. Eventually a security guard found
me and pointed me in the direction of the guesthouse, where all the Playmates stay.

I was assigned Room 2 of the guesthouse, and the second I walked in I jumped right on the bed. It was the comfiest bed I had ever lay on in my life. The room wasn’t big, but something about it made it instantly feel like paradise.

Before arriving at the Mansion I had no idea what was planned for the weekend. I didn’t know if I’d be in a bikini all weekend, or formalwear, or even painted again for that matter. As it turned out, there was going to be a big
Casablanca
-themed party that night, and that meant formalwear. Even my nicest pair of cutoff jeans was not going to cut it.

Bridget was the one who filled me in on the dress code. I slowly met her and some of the other girls throughout the day—usually if they came up and talked to me—and Bridget seemed to know the most about the weekend plans.

I didn’t know what to do. The only formal affair I had ever been to was my prom, and I’d only stayed there for two minutes before leaving and changing into sweats.

I called Bridget—whose room number was on a list by my phone—for some help.

“Hi, this is Kendra,” I said in slightly less of a little girl’s voice than I would have once used. “I don’t really know where I am right now or what I’m doing here, but I was told I need to be in a fancy dress tonight and I don’t have one.”

“I’ll be right down,” she replied sweetly.

Minutes later she showed up at my door, all dolled up in a black formal gown.

“Whoa, is that what I’m supposed to be wearing?” I asked.

“Of course, silly. It’s
Casablanca
night.”

I didn’t know what to say. She took me to her room in the Mansion, which was all pink and super-girly. I thought it was cool, even though it wasn’t necessarily my style. We went through her closet and found the perfect black dress for me to wear. Bridget was so nice, and she totally helped me out when she didn’t even know me. I played with her cat for a little while, got dressed, and eventually went down for dinner.

We all sat down at the table—Hef and six or seven girls, including me—and I did my best to act like I belonged. It was a buffet-style meal and I watched how the other girls served themselves and then took exactly the same amount of food as they took. When we sat down I barely ate—I was too scared.

The whole time, Hef kept looking at me and giving me the eye, and it made me feel good that he even bothered to pay attention to me with so many other hot girls at the table. I also started enjoying the whole Mansion scene: butlers, comfy beds, good food—I knew I could get used to it.

After dinner we posed for some photos with Hef and watched
Casablanca
in the movie room. I had never seen a black-and-white movie before and I wasn’t really into the film. To make matters worse, I had to pee so bad, but I thought it would be rude to get up. I was crammed in a tiny space on the floor with all the other girls, and there was no way to get up without being disruptive. Plus, it was Hef’s favorite movie and everyone else seemed like they were into it, so I wanted to be respectful. As soon as the movie was over I ran to the bathroom.

The next night was club night. All the girls got dolled up and
climbed into a big stretch Hummer limo, where we popped open Champagne for the drive to Hollywood. It was my first time in a limo, but I tried my hardest to act like I was used to it because no one else seemed to think it was amazing to be riding around in a huge-ass Hummer.

At the club we drank and danced. I did a little booty-shaking, and by the end of the night I was a little drunk and in a fun party mood.

On the ride home one of the girls asked me if I wanted to go upstairs into Hef’s room with everyone once we got back to the Mansion. In my head I could hear my mom’s voice:
You know they have orgies up there.
The alcohol had made me a little tipsy, but I was still out of my comfort zone. I didn’t really believe the stories my mom told me—I thought it was all hype—but not knowing what to expect made me nervous.

“So do you want to come upstairs?” she asked again when we got back to the house.

Orgies. Orgies. Orgies.

“Okay, if I have to.”

I didn’t have to, obviously. I would never have to do anything at the Mansion that I didn’t want to do. It seemed like every other girl was going up there, though, and that if I didn’t go, too, it would be weird.

Before heading up, I went with a girl named Natalie to her room—the room that would one day become my room—and she instantly scared the crap out of me.

“Do you want to borrow panties?” she asked.

Orgies. Orgies Orgies.
What? Why would I borrow panties? What was going on here?

There I was, in this girl’s room in the Playboy Mansion—a room that had a stripper pole in it—and I was being asked if I wanted to borrow panties before going up to Hugh Hefner’s room with a bunch of other girls. What a crazy world I was in all of a sudden! This was a far cry from Papa John’s and school projects. But I wasn’t about to chicken out now, so I put on the girl’s underwear and went upstairs, nervous and shy but also a little curious to see what “upstairs” was all about.

I followed her to Hef’s room, the same bedroom you’d see Hef and Holly in on
The Girls Next Door
. But that night it wasn’t the relaxing, comfortable bedroom fans have grown to love. Instead, it was pitch black, with club music blasting and porn playing on the big screen. The whole scene was really strange to me—and I was a girl who thought she had seen pretty much everything.

Sticking close to Natalie, I saw there were a bunch of girls in the bathtub. Natalie jumped in. I took off the panties that I had just borrowed and hopped in, too. I followed whatever the other girls were doing, and I said nothing.

Eventually everyone got out of the tub and climbed onto Hef’s bed, where he was lying on his back waiting. There were about seven other girls with me, and we were all naked. Someone handed me some body gel, but I had no idea what I was supposed to do with it, so I set it aside on the bed.

Holly got things started by getting Hef going, um, orally. Meanwhile, some of the other girls were slapping ass, getting all kinky, and yelling out all sorts of crazy things. I was scared—these girls were strangers to me. I just sat on the edge of the bed and watched. I wanted to be left alone and only do what I had to do.

One by one, each girl hopped on Hef and had sex with him.
By this point my mom’s voice was no longer in my head, thank goodness. I was just focused on what was going on in front of me.

Each girl rode Hef for about a minute or so and then hopped off and did her own thing—some fooled around with the other girls, while others just sort of sat to the side and watched. I studied their every move.

Then it was my turn.

I had been taking notes in my head, so I knew about a minute was all I needed to put in. Counting the time in my head, I had sex with Hef for the first time. At about the minute mark, I pulled away and it was done. It was like a job. Clock in, clock out. Or in this case, cock in, cock out.

I was definitely nervous up until that moment, but afterward I didn’t really think too much of it. I was just going with the flow. I wasn’t thinking about how much older Hef was—all the parts worked the same, even at his age; at the end of the day a body is a body. Plus, he was a successful, powerful, charming man, and those qualities pulled me right in. But it was still very weird.

It’s not like I enjoyed having sex with him at the same time as all those other girls. I felt like I had to do it more than I wanted to do it. But I didn’t have to be there. I
wanted
to be there. I
liked
being there. And if I had taken the time to weigh the pros and cons, I still would have done it. It’s strange to look back on what I was thinking at the time. Hef’s such a great friend and an important person in my life now, and our relationship seems so natural, but on that first night, I had no idea we would become as close as we are.