Down the Rabbit Hole - Holly Madison

achieved two goals at once: not only would she most likely avoid having to have sex with Hef, but
she’d also earn his favor by bringing around pretty new young things for his enjoyment. Of course at
the time, I knew none of this. Despite the bimbo label often placed on Hef’s harem, some of these
girls were quite savvy. Girlfriend politics was serious business: ruthless, calculated, and complex.
On that particular night, Candice and I were the newest victims—and it definitely felt to me that our
new “friend” pushed us into the action.
“Heeeef . . . don’t you want to be with the new girl?” Vicky screamed over the loud music as she
reached over and pushed him towards me.
Much to my surprise, my turn was over just as quickly as it started. By the time I was able to
wrap my head around what was happening, Hef had already moved on to Candice, then to a few of his
actual girlfriends before finishing off by himself, as he always did. I have never had a more
disconnected experience. There was zero intimacy involved. No kissing, nothing. It was so brief that I
can’t even recall what it felt like beyond having a heavy body on top of mine.
Even though it was just a few short minutes of my life, I had never taken intimate experiences
lightly, so it weighed heavily on me. I was disappointed in myself that it had come to this. Even in my
drunken haze, I knew that it was a big decision I would have to live with.
Some of the girls leaned over and quickly pecked Hef on the cheek—in the same unattached
manner that most would probably kiss their grandfather. The girls began filing out of the room,
offering Hef a few candy-coated “good nights.” Quickly, I pulled on my pajamas and followed Vicky
down the hall and into her bedroom. I was so wasted that I forgot to grab my club clothes and purse—
which were strewn about somewhere on the floor of the master suite. Vicky ordered cheeseburgers
and fries to the room as if it were any other night, but I passed out before the food even arrived.
Over the years, I would see so many girls come and go through that cavernous master bedroom. I
never encouraged anyone to come up there and was often downright cold to some of the girls Hef
would invite out with us. It wasn’t because I felt threatened or even due to my own embarrassment,
but mostly because I didn’t want to do to those girls what Vicky had done to me. I had hoped my hard
exterior would dissuade them from making my same mistakes. Vicky had tried to act all buddy-buddy,
like we were just friends having fun together, like she wanted me to be a part of her club, but I had
been used: plain and simple. Unfortunately, it took me a while to realize that. At the time, I wanted to
believe that Vicky actually liked me, and only pushed Hef towards me because she wanted me to
become a girlfriend. Like I said in the beginning, I was naïve.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, I woke up feeling terrible—and it wasn’t just the hangover. Vicky escorted
me back to the master bedroom to help me look for my clothes and purse. And just as if it were any
other morning, she gave me a friendly hug good-bye.
But I couldn’t just leave. I had to find Hef.
After asking one of the butlers where he might be, I finally found him in the library busying
himself with notes for that Friday night’s mansion movie screening (before each movie he always
prepared a sort of speech).