Holly Madison is about 5 years late with her Tales from the Crypt tell-all about Hugh Hefner, but I guess it’s never too late to hear about the adventures of Hef’s mummy finger dick. (Pro-tip: If you ever get with a famous piece, do like Holly did and don’t sign a non-disclosure, so you can tell all in a book one day.)
Holly’s tell-all Down the Rabbit Hole: Curious Adventures and Cautionary Tales of a Former Playboy Bunny is coming out in a couple of weeks, so her publisher is really selling it hard by releasing pieces from it. Holly, who is now married with a kid, writes about everything from how Hef left her $ 3 million in his will to how she was surprised to learn that the cum dust his dick slit spits out can’t be used to make a baby.
Both People and UsWeekly got excerpts from Holly’s book.
On how she was tired of being a member of Hef’s harem of hos and thought having a baby would change that: “But I suppose I thought of it as a ticket out – in more ways than one. The last time the mansion had been multiple-girlfriend-free was when Hef was married and had two children.”
On how that dream was crushed when Hef gave some semen samples to a fertility clinic and they all came back with a thumbs down: “This was concrete proof slapping me in the face that there was no future for me at the mansion and it was either sit in there and rot or take the plunge and face the world.”
On how she was disgusted when she told Hef she was leaving him and he tried to keep her there by putting her in his will: "It was there, in black and white. The will stated that $ 3,000,000 would be bestowed to Holly Madison at the time of his death (provided I still lived in the Mansion). At the time, it was more money than I'd ever know what to do with… But I didn't want it. I actually pitied him for stooping to that level. I couldn't help but be offended. Did he really think he could buy me? I put the folder back on the bed just as I had found it and never breathed a word of it."
On how Hef offered her ludes when they first met: “‘Would you like a Quaalude?’ Hef asked, leaning toward me with a bunch of large horse pills in his hands, held together by a crumpled tissue.” After she declined the drugs, “Hef did not miss a beat: 'Okay, that's good,' he said, nonchalantly. 'Usually, I don't approve of drugs, but you know, in the '70s they used to call these pills thigh openers.'”
Funny enough, that story about Hef calling ludes “thigh openers” is a real “thigh closer” and barf inducer today.
Two things:
1. I thought I felt a small tremor earlier and now I know it was from every L.A. area gold digger passing out after reading about how Holly turned down a 280-year-old millionaire’s offer to put her in his will. Any respectable gold digger would’ve framed that will and hung it over her bed like it was a diploma from Harvard. The hell kind of gold digger was Holly?
2. As many of us know (because it’s charred into our brains), Kendra claimed in her tell-all that Hef’s blondes of the night would all wait in line and take turns doing him. So if you met Hef and knew you were going to go back to the Mansion to join his conveyer belt of gross, you’d probably turn down ludes from him too. But only because you’d want something stronger like crack or whatever kind of painkillers they give elephants after elephant surgery.
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