Hugh Hefner Dead at the Age of 91: My Hefner Story

Hugh Hefner Dead at the Age of 91: My Hefner Story

Hugh Hefner was a Leftist icon. And at the age of 91, Hufner finally cashed in his chips.

He helped foster in the sexual revolution while simultaneously exploiting women. That man was a misogynist on a mission.

The Mirror wrote this of Hefner:

Hefner was sometimes characterised as an oversexed Peter Pan as he kept a harem of young blondes that numbered as many as seven at his legendary Playboy Mansion.

This was chronicled in “The Girls Next Door,” a TV reality show that aired from 2005 through 2010.

He said that thanks to the impotency-fighting drug Viagra he continued exercising his libido into his 80s.

As a youngster growing up I remember loving it when my grandmother had to go clean “Tommy’s place”. Tommy was the son of the multi-millionaires for whom my family worked. And all over his place were Playboy magazines.

Oh, I pretended not to notice, but my grandmother and I both knew what I was up to. C’mon, what kid WANTS to clean his own mess, less somebody else’s!

I would read “Letters to the Editor,” which may seem nerdy. But trust me, they were generally salacious, and certainly watered my fertile mind. Of course, I quickly got to the centerfold. A couple of lucky ladies even made my locker in high school.

Remember the girl from Michael Jackson’s Thriller video? Nola Rae, I believe, as I’m going from memory on the name. But not on other things, I need no such memory jog. Whatever her name, she represented the finest specimen of woman for my 16-year-old imagination at the time.

Playboy made careers for many young women.

That’s if you can call what they built careers. I won’t judge, as I prefer to leave that for the women to figure out. I know that hardly a boy growing up didn’t want to be Hugh Hefner at some point. Surrounding by some of the most beautiful women in the world, with even more willing to do anything, yes anything to get inside the Playboy mansion.

In my early 20s, I won some contest and received a “Gold Card” that would get me into any Playboy property in the country. They shut them down less than a month later, so my view from the inside would have to wait.

I would later go to more “gentlemen’s clubs” than you can shake a stick at. Attending those places was practically a requirement for a sales career. And lucky for me, Dallas Texas had the best in the country, and some of the most beautiful women.

I took clients to these places, happily for about two years. I would go into the Million Dollar Saloon on Northwest Highway, and felt like Hefner. I had a fairly significant expense account, which got me what a man wants in those places: attention, and lots of it. It didn’t take long for the women to know that when Kevin showed up, they weren’t wasting their time.

My clients LOVED me. I knew the girls by name. Heck, I even played on their softball team one season. I was a Hefner of sorts.

When in “business” mode with clients, the adoration worked both ways. I had command of the most beautiful girls in the club. If they sat with other men, when I and my clients entered, I got preferential treatment. Yes, the girls let me know they were available for my clients.

I recall one evening taking six men from a big Japanese company to the club. They were my largest client, so I needed to make them happy.

Earlier in the evening we had dined at The Mansion, one of Dallas’ finest restaurants. I noted that one of the regional managers quickly picked up the check, well over $1000. Sounds magnanimous until you know that there were 6 of them and one of me.

I called my boss, as I knew what was coming. They had picked up that check, so now it was time for payback. The younger regional manager asked, “Where to next, Boys!”

We arrived at the club, and were given a prime table, obviously. The eye-candy was tremendous, no matter what your tastes. The ladies swarmed us, all of them paying homage to me, as over the years I had become a big deal, dropping a mortgage or two in that place.

As the men “shopped”, and paired up with ladies, the oldest gentleman caught my eye. He was 65-years-old and a grandfather, I had learned earlier at dinner. Nevertheless, in the club he reverted to childhood.

He was the leader of the group, thus I secured my top girl to pamper him. This six-foot gorgeous blonde sat on his lap, torturing him with her looks. She would smile at me, as I sat on the other side of the table, wholly disinterested. By now, I was at least a 5-year veteran of the scene. No longer enamored.

I smiled back, knowing that she actually kind of liked me outside of the business. Anyway, as she and I caught that moment, the old grandpa motioned to me that he’d like her to dance for him.

I nodded approval to her, like some pimp or a mafioso club owner. I thought, “I’m kinda like Hefner in this place!”

She danced, and the old man truly couldn’t be any happier. I wondered what his wife or grandchildren might think to see him in this clandestine, stolen moment. The moment where he dropped the facade and allowed a bit of his dark side to show.

The young beauty finished dancing, and sat back on his knee. As she was talking to other girls who were sitting with my five other clients, the grandfather motioned to me with a hand gesture, “How much?”

I’m thinking, “My expense account?”

He then signaled that he wanted to take a 20-something drop-dead gorgeous woman who made more money than both of us back to his hotel. I chuckled inside. I mouthed back to him, “We don’t have enough money for that!”

That scene repeated itself for a few more years. I was in and out of those clubs. I recall many times saying, “If I never go back to one of these joints it will be TOO SOON!”

I got to know the girls. Some of the stories were tragic. I watched a father learn this his daughter was a dancer. Imagine the surprise of those two keeping secrets.

I don’t know what to think of Hugh Hefner’s death.

Honest, I idolized the man for a long time. I didn’t understand the implications of his lifestyle.

Having experienced a small piece of it, I’m happy I’m not him. Without being sanctimonious, I don’t think Hefner is discussing womanly wiles or how God designed the perfect form, that of a woman. That conversation may be happening in Hell, however.

Regardless of what one thinks of Hefner, he undoubtedly influenced many men and women over the years. I learned from my years at the club, that I had seen enough of Hefner’s life. Glamorous on the surface, but what a dirty underbelly.



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