The next morning I woke up wondering what the day would bring. Luckily the bathroom was available, and so I washed my face, put on my lotion, and realized I was starving so I ordered breakfast. I pulled out my makeup video and by the time I was done, breakfast was ready. When picking up my breakfast I was shown the designated area adjacent to the kitchen in the main Mansion. I was alone. There didn’t seem to be anyone up except me. No one walked by, and no one came down the stairs.
After I finished eating I walked outside by the pool. There was a Miller Lite party going on. I stopped and wandered through the crowd and noticed there were lots of Playmates giving tours around the mansion.
Naturally, being camera happy, I had to get pictures of all the Playmates individually for my memory
collection. I was very excited to have this opportunity with them, and it was also a chance to look around the Mansion again. Little did I know what would unfold. I followed the tour and got to see lots of the grounds, the game room, the zoo, the grotto, tennis courts. This was more in line with what I thought the Mansion would be like. And then I saw lots of guys and Playmates wandering the estate. Everyone was very tastefully dressed, which surprised me.
At the head of the pool, I recognized Hefner’s physician Mark “Doc” Saginor, from the “Inside the Playboy Mansion” video. He was heading towards me.
Being Hef’s doctor I figured that he was going to tell me that he needed to test me, or something. He introduced himself.
Out of the blue I said, “You don’t have to worry about me. I’ve been with the same guy for ten years and I don’t have anything.”
He looked at me. “What in the hell are you talking about?”
“Oh. I went out with Hef last night and I thought you had come over to tell me you needed to test me or something.”
He became absolutely enraged. “I don’t know who you are. I don’t care who you are. I don’t care what you do or don’t do with Hef.”
“I’m so sorry. One of the girls said that everyone was tested often. I thought you were coming over here for that.”
He said, “They aren’t tested.”
I looked at him with amazement. I’m sure I had that deer-in-the-headlights look. “Let’s start over, please. I’m Jill Ann. I’m a professional poker player and I did a pictorial for Playboy on Texas Hold ‘em.”
“Texas Hold ‘em? You know,” he said, “I often have a no-limit Texas Holdem game at my house with a $5,000 buy-in. If you’re interested I’d be happy to have you come.”
I wouldn’t enter a home game with this much of a buy-in, but I didn’t tell him that. I acted very interested. With the common ground of mutual interest, we chatted a while on the subject. He had calmed down from our initial encounter and was much nicer to me. I apologized again.
He said, “I do care, and I am interested.” He said something to the effect that if I decided to indulge in sex with Hef he wished me good luck and shook his head as he walked away.
I thought that was nice that he would say this to me. Knowing he was good friends with Hef or at least probably a well -paid employee, his conscience made him have to give his opinion. Of course, since then his
own daughter has since written a tell-all of her own dysfunctional days at the Mansion. He was no role model father.
I was already hungry again since I was keeping to my healthy regimen. I ordered another piece of chicken, diet caffeine-free Pepsi and fruit. Already getting to know the kitchen better, I had already stated my request of blueberries and raspberries, instead of the melon mix I had gotten before. I sat there thinking how I wouldn’t spend the money at the grocery store on these berries because they were always three dollars or more for a small amount. I picked up my order and went back to the guesthouse. Sitting on the down comforter I began to eat. I willingly ate a good pound’s worth of these exotic berries thoroughly enjoying every bite.
I called Kelly, and told her of my encounter with the house doctor. I wanted her to know that he told me the girls aren’t tested. I came right out and asked her if she had been tested. She hadn’t, and I wondered who had told her the other girls had been. She said she had just assumed. I didn’t understand. If she hadn’t been tested why would she assume everyone had been? I needed to hang up. I wasn’t sure if my room had ears, and I didn’t want anyone to hear what I was talking about. I told her I had to go. I reflected on the statement Kelly had made to me the night before.
I thought for sure Kelly had said: “You want to have sex with him. It is a major honor. The girls are tested often.” I thought how that fateful comment that night might have made other girls participate in the thought that the girls were tested and how this was such a statement that could have made a girl feel it was safe. As none of them were using condoms, it was apparent the statement from her in such a convincing voice might have had much weight to a girl who really waned to be there. I wondered if she was instructed to say such a thing. When I stopped to think about it, she is the one that also said, “He doesn’t play that way. He’s old and doesn’t need the challenge. He has girls willing to sleep with him anytime.”
I stopped to remember the pressure and thoughts that went through my head last night as if I was at an auction and it was my only chance to bid. Giving me the key words to let me know that there might not be another visit upstairs if I did not participate. Giving me the threat of how many other women were willing to sleep with him that I had no time to mess around. Was this all rehearsed, played out time after time? If I would have joined in, would I then be the Stepford whore that was instructed to take care of the new girls and show them the ropes! Feeling really outnumbered with Michelle, my crazy roommate, and Kelly, the
auctioneer, I began to feel a little cornered in.
Michelle and her daughter were out in the living room. So after hanging up the phone with Kelly, I thought it would be best to get a little friendlier with them and see what I could find out. I moved into the living room with my tray of fruit and nonchalantly began some dialogue with them.
“What’re you doing today?” I asked.
“Nothing, but tonight, Hef, the girls and I are going to the Pussy Cat Dolls and then dinner.”
“I wonder if I’m invited.”
“You should ask Hef.”
“How do I do that?”
“Well, he’s up working in the office doing his scrapbook. You could probably talk to him there.”
“Will you show me where his office is?”
She agreed and made a phone call to someone. She needed to go to the salon to have her hair deep-conditioned and wanted company. She called and spoke to one of the official girlfriends and begged her to go with her for company. The girl said she had other plans and couldn’t go. Hearing the other end of the conversation, I thought this would be a good chance to win her over, so once she hung up the phone, I offered to go with her if she wanted. She seemed willing to have me go, and I told her that I wanted to have my hair deep-conditioned as well. She picked up the phone and made an appointment for me as well. Everything was set. I was excited to be going to a salon with an official girlfriend. At this point, I felt a bit like an amateur detective. I wanted to find out more about this weird arrangement he had with these women. It felt like a harem.
I asked again, “Will you show me where Hef is?”
126 She agreed and I followed her down the pathway to an entryway that I was not aware of, going up some hidden stairs that led upstairs into the mansion. Just like first night we were at the landing and I could remember the rooms to the right were all the girlfriends, bedrooms, Hef’s master bedroom and heading to the left was a large wing of offices for employees. Instead of acting like she had the authority to be there, as soon as we arrived at the top of the stairs she suddenly acted like we were not together and just pointed down the hallway and said he will be down there at the end. She headed to the right with her head down. No one was in the hallway and the sightseer in me began to look around.
Walking down the corridor of the second floor off to the right were several prints blown up to six feet.
They were photos of playmates, celebrities, and friends with Hef at all kinds of events. It was pretty huge wall of memorable times from Hef’s past. They seemed to be of no particular order. The pictures dated back many years all the way to the present, with most of the pictures of Hef and celebrities or playmates: Gene Simmons, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Jimmy Caan, Jack Nicholson, Pamela Anderson, Roseanne, Michael Jackson, Bill Clinton, Warren Beatty, Whitney, Leo, Cher, Bill Cosby, Dr. Ruth, Eddie Murphy, the list was endless. Walking down was like looking at a history of the sexual revolution. I finally got up enough nerve to head down the hall where the carpet leads towards the offices she had pointed to. I passed by many doors, all of which were closed except the last one at the end.
I walked in and said softly to the woman at the desk, “Hi, I’m Jill Ann Spaulding. I’m staying at the guesthouse, and Michelle told me that the group was going out to dinner tonight. I was wondering if I was invited.”
“Hef hasn’t informed me.”
“Okay. I just wanted to check.”
She said, “You’re invited tomorrow night for buffet dinner, movie, and then going out afterwards.”
“Oh, thank you! Is there something I should be doing today?”
“No. There’s a party going on held by Miller Lite. I doubt they would mind if you joined them.” I thanked her and headed out.
As I headed out of the office I noticed one of the doors that I had passed on the way was now open. I could see Hef sitting in a meeting with two people looking at large pictures that might have been proofs for the magazine. My heart was pounding as I walked past back to where Michelle was standing. I stood in front of Michelle for a moment. She looked at me, puzzled.
“Heck with it,” I said and walked back to Hef’s office.
“Hef, can I go out with you and the girls to dinner tonight?”
He looked at me and smiled. “Yes, darling.”
I practically skipped down the hallway and headed down the stairs to return to the guesthouse.
Michelle was already at the bottom.
“How did it go?” she asked.
“He said yes!”
The expression on her face was surprised, threatened and incredulous—all at the same time. All she said was, “Oh.”
Apparently this was not cool. I told her exactly what I had said. I could feel her hackles rise. She wasn’t fooling me. I asked her what time dinner was, and she told me that they were leaving at 6:00 p.m.
We went up to the front of the mansion, and the valet brought up her BMW. As we headed for the mall she said there was a great store with terrific clothes with good prices. She needed to run there for some new outfits. We spent about an hour and a half shopping. At one point, I couldn’t find Michelle for about half an hour. She was nowhere in the store; I looked in the dressing rooms, back room, bathroom, everywhere. She was for sure not in the store. I thought she had left me there. I didn’t even know where I was. I had never been to this mall before and the crazy thought went through me that I didn’t even know the address to get back to the Mansion if I were to have to take a cab. I felt sick. Finally, about ten minutes later I spotted her.
“I thought you ditched me. I was trying to figure out how to get back to the mansion. I don’t have the address with me.”
“I wouldn’t have done that to you,” she assured me. We left the mall and got back into her car.
I called both my mother and grandmother to tell them what I was doing and let them know I was fine.
I didn’t call Bruce. I hadn’t told Michelle that I had a boyfriend. I figured she was gathering information on me as it was, and I wasn’t going to give anything more if I didn’t need to.
I hung up from talking with my mom. Michelle said, “Wow. . . . It must be nice to be able to tell your family the truth. My family wouldn’t understand. Just the mention of the Playboy mansion would set them off.”
“Both my mom and grandma have always loved Playboy, and they’re very supportive.” I expressed.
The salon was called Prive at 7373 Beverly Boulevard in Los Angeles. I knew that Michelle got to charge any services she had at the salon to the Playboy account. So I was hoping that she could at least get me a discount and so I asked her. She said she would get into big trouble if she put something she didn’t have done on the Playboy account. I said, “Oh no, I didn’t mean that but maybe at least they can give me a discount.”
The valet took the car. There was an outdoor restaurant in front of the salon, and I ordered an iced tea and a little something to eat. The tea that I chose was something so gross I can’t begin to explain it,
something with milk and carbonation and tea. I couldn’t help myself—I had to send it back. After lunch, before I had my hair conditioned I decided that since this was a big occasion I would have my makeup done as well. The salon was obviously a place frequented by actresses. It was modern with a very sexy
atmosphere, and all the stylists seemed to really know what they were doing. I told the makeup artist that this was important and that he needed to make sure I had enough time. He assured me over and over again it would be perfect and that we would have plenty of time. He had me remove my makeup before having my hair done. He said that waiting until my hair was done would spoil it. (I didn’t know it at the time, but I was being set up.)
The same person doing Michelle’s hair was doing mine as well so they had me stay longer under the heat because her hair wasn’t finished. It took an extremely long time to blow dry my hair, and I started to get very nervous about running out of time. In all of my time of getting my hair done I could not imagine that anyone could have taken this much time to blow dry my hair. It seemed as if he was just going over the same dry areas and it began to become semi large and not very attractive. He informed me that once I slept on it that it would look good the following day. I wasn’t concerned about it looking good the following day I was needed it to look good that night. That moment.
It was five o’clock when my hair was done. The makeup artist said he couldn’t fit me in.
I said, “Can you at least do my eyes?”
Michelle said, “Oh no, just doing eyes alone takes him sometimes thirty minutes just for that.”
Michelle said, “I have to go back and change. I can’t wait for you. You look fine without makeup anyway.”
I started crying and on the way back to the mansion I decided not to go out for the evening. I didn’t want Mr. Hefner to see me without makeup. I absolutely was not going out on the town with no makeup on.
For God’s sake, there was going to be probably paparazzi and pictures and tons of other stuff.
“Hef doesn’t like girls who wear makeup. You look fine,” Michelle said.
First of all, I knew this was just bullshit. Total nonsense. I did know he liked a natural look, but every woman with him had her eyes done perfectly, with her browbone highlighted and her eyes ever so slightly feline.
Besides, I did not look fine. Black mascara underneath my eyes was just part of the mess. As we traveled back to the mansion, my head started racing with thoughts of what I would have to do to still be able to go. When we pulled up I didn’t even take my purchases from the car. I dashed to my room, threw off my clothes, washed my face and started to change into the outfit I had settled on while in the car. I noticed a yellow note attached to my TV. “6/6 Jill Ann: The departure time for this evening has been changed to 8:30.
Norma Maister.” I started screaming. I was so excited and relieved. I came out and told Michelle. She didn’t seem too pleased. So much for her little trick!
She said, “It’s ridiculous that they didn’t inform me. I’m pissed.” Not one word that she was happy for me that I had time to put makeup on and could still go. To be honest, while I hated all this intrigue, there
128 was a part of me that felt competitive about this. I was not going to let anyone make a fool of me. These women would not get the best of me. I was way too smart for that.
I returned to my room and started applying my makeup. At 8:30, everyone had gathered in the
entrance to the mansion, pictures were taken, and we headed down the dark path to the limo. There weren’t as many girls as usual, but again each girl was dressed very sexy, in a way that really drew attention! Each woman could have been in a shampoo commercial—everyone’s hair was both sleek and shiny in that
“Playboy looks.” Everyone’s makeup was perfect, not overdone. Very professional the way makeup artists apply it, playing down any flaws and playing up assets like full lips and model cheekbones. I wondered why
“Playboy looks.” Everyone’s makeup was perfect, not overdone. Very professional the way makeup artists apply it, playing down any flaws and playing up assets like full lips and model cheekbones. I wondered why