Down the Rabbit Hole - Holly Madison

trademark on GND was something she affected in order to stand out. I know I have no place to talk
when it comes to annoying laughs, but with Kendra, it was clear she was just being as loud as
possible in order to make sure every head in the room turned her way.
“Why is Kendra laughing like that?” one of the visiting Playmates had asked me, unaccustomed
to the new sound. “She’s so annoying! If no one is paying attention to her, she just screams out of the
blue!”
I just shrugged my shoulders, hoping it was just a passing phase. But Kendra wouldn’t shut it off
until she was certain all eyes were on her. The laugh never did vanish, though. Even today she still
adopts that cackle. I bet by now it’s almost natural. Almost.
Eventually, these sort of exaggerated antics became her trademark. For example: flying. She
claimed to be so terrified of flying that she would put on a massive show in front of Hef during
takeoff that resembled a loud, prolonged, frightened orgasm. It was embarrassing to witness. And
wouldn’t you know, when we were finally able to fly with Kendra on our own (read: without an
audience of men for her to perform for), she was remarkably calm during the entire flight.
Kendra had been living at the mansion for close to a year when my patience finally started to
wear. We were all out at the nightclub of the moment in Hollywood with some potential Playmates.
Bridget and I flanked Hef in a corner booth while the other girls danced and partied around us.
Always trying my best to be as attentive as possible, I remained seated next to Hef the whole night,
drinking and watching the clock.
Immediately, Kendra hoisted herself to the top of the banquette. Surrounded by the Playmate
posse (all of whom were her BFFs on this particular evening), Kendra put on a show dancing as
provocatively and wildly as she could until she was certain every set of eyes in the nightclub were
focused squarely on her. In all of her theatrics, Kendra didn’t notice the large candles near her feet.
One minute she was shaking her ass and the next a cascade of hot wax was scorching down my leg.
I jumped to my feet and began swiping at my thigh. Kendra took a brief moment to take in the
situation before turning her attention back to the other Playmates and letting out a long, loud laugh, not
even taking a moment to apologize.
Hef was oblivious to what had just happened—recognizing that something was wrong only when
I stood up and started peeling the wax off my leg. He finally asked what had happened.
“Kendra dumped hot wax all over my leg,” I said angrily. “She knocked that candle over while
she was dancing, looked right at me, and didn’t even apologize.”
“I’m sure she didn’t mean it,” Hef said, ignoring how upset I was and turning his head back
towards the crowd dancing in front of us. He decided it was time to leave a few minutes later. Thank
God, I thought. I just wanted this night to be over so I could forget about this latest humiliation, just as
I had tried to forget all the others I had experienced since joining the mansion fold.
As we navigated our way through the sea of gawkers, we were stuck in an absolute traffic jam.
Picture Hugh Hefner, roughly 10 girls, and a handful of security guards trying to push their way
through this dark, tiny, crowded nightclub. It was a nightmare. Not only was I angry and irritated, but
my skin was still burning from where the wax had landed.
Kendra was bouncing along behind me, laughing and dancing with the other Playmates as we