Down the Rabbit Hole - Holly Madison

Cyber Girl shoot. With a huge knot in my stomach I explained that I wasn’t really comfortable with
the results and would rather the photos weren’t floating around the Internet. He assured me that he
would let the Chicago office know—and he did, but only after the pictures had already been posted
on Playboy.com for a few hours. The editor took them down immediately, but that doesn’t mean much.
Once something appears on the Internet, it never really goes away. To this day, those photos are
probably floating around somewhere.
Oh well, I thought. I guess there could be worse things out there.
WHILE I WAS RACKING up disappointment after disappointment in the pursuit of a career, my “social
life” at the mansion wasn’t faring any better.
Most of the other girlfriends seemed to hate me with a passion, though I never did anything to
them besides keep my distance. Daphne was the alpha female of that group and the other girls
followed her like sheep. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Daphne would have loved to install
Dianna in my place as main girlfriend. They felt my role as main girlfriend was to be a sort of
representative for the other girls and make sure that we continued to enjoy all the perks of living at the
mansion. Under their breath, when they weren’t making comments about my appearance (Daphne
loved to make fun of my “thin lips” since I was one of the few who didn’t have my pout inflated with
fillers), I’d overhear them make comments alluding to the fact that I didn’t “run things” as well as
Tina, since Hef had so noticeably tightened his purse strings with the girlfriends in the last few years.
The majority of the women who had done time at the mansion were born hustlers who knew how
to milk a man for every last cent. That ability to manipulate just wasn’t a part of my DNA. I was way
too timid, and besides, I actually liked Hef. I wasn’t interested in scamming every penny I could get
out of him! Prior to me, Hef’s girlfriends were masters of the hustle.
The Bentley twins were showered in lavish gifts: Rolex watches, fur coats, matching BMWs,
designer gowns, and even furniture for their off-property apartments (which were also paid for by
Hef). When the twins (along with Brande Roderick) moved out, the original seven moved in and Hef
decided to tighten up the purse strings. Still, Tina was skillfully calculating and was able to secure
each girlfriend a leased car, a sizable wardrobe allowance, and lavish Christmas gifts. But it was
nothing on the scale of what the twins had managed to bank.
When Tina left the mansion, Hef tightened his belt even further: no shopping sprees, less
allowance, and off-site apartments were now strictly forbidden.
Anyone who joined the Playboy harem was after something. Most of the girlfriends were
looking to get their pictorial and as much cash as humanly possible, like hookers on the clock. While I
wasn’t after Hef’s money (I was just grateful to have a roof over my head!), I too saw my stay at the
mansion as a once-in-a-lifetime sort of thing that could lead to potential opportunities for my future.
“I don’t care about money, I just want to be wonderful,” was a Marilyn Monroe quote I lived by.
I wasn’t looking to get rich, but I was hungry for a career. I just wanted to accomplish something . . .
anything! Sure, I believed I had come to care for Hef, but let’s get real: it wasn’t love at first sight and
I had my own set of goals. Greed just wasn’t part of it.