Free Bunny Tales by Izabella St. James

to Los Angeles, she started doing B movies. When she met Hef, she was having a hard time paying rent. She had tested for Playboy magazine before, but despite being very photogenic, in my opinion, did not get approved. She was hoping to become a Girlfriend because of the money and work opportunities with Playboy it could bring her. Although our lives had been completely different, I liked Emma. I realized that, though I was not as bad as other people in law school, I was also a bit of an intellectual snob. I would not date anyone who was not as educated as I was, or befriend women who relied on their looks, or men, to get by in life. The feminist in me regarded that as pathetic. But life at the Mansion forcibly exposed me to a wide variety of characters, and I became more open-minded. Because of my friendship with Emma, I learned how to be less judgmental about people and the things they do in life to survive. I loved her sense of humor and upbeat personality. I like all accents in general but I have a particular liking for the Queen’s English. I loved the way she spoke; her swear words were particularly amusing. Before I knew it I was going around saying “bloody hell” and “bollocks” as if I had grown up saying it. No matter how bad my mood was, there were certain words she could always say to make me laugh such as the word guilty, which she pronounced “gui-ee,” or when she ordered “tos-ee-os” (Tostitos) and salsa. Emma and I had a lot of fun together; we would drink and dance at the clubs. We were also both in the same initial stages of our relationship with Hef, although she knew she wanted to move in and I still wasn’t sure about it. My friendship with her influenced my eventual decisions regarding moving in, living at the Mansion, and even moving out. Now I had a few friends who were entering this foreign world of Playboy with me; we shared our concerns, our fears, and our hopes. The experience was now beyond hanging out with Hef; it became about having fun with my friends. It was exactly that kind of thinking that led me to sabotage myself.
    This new lifestyle was not compatible with studying for the Bar exam. I was sacrificing my studies, and I knew it. Hef was planning a trip to New York City at the end of January, and I was told that he wanted to invite me but was not going to because he didn’t want to interfere with my studies. I knew that the damage had been done already, and so I asked him if I could come on the trip. He agreed but was concerned about taking me away from my studies. We chartered a private jet and stayed at the Four Seasons Hotel in Manhattan. I shared a room with Roxy, with whom I bonded, but who drove me nuts waking up at 7 every morning. The trip to New York was amazing. We went to see The Producers , which was fantastic. We went out to the best nightclubs and hung out with musician Moby one night—he was so sweet and was fascinated by the fact that I had just finished law school. He wrote about me in his online journal, but I have not seen him since then. The best, and most rewarding, was going to a firehouse (Engine 3, Ladder 12, Battalion 7) and spending time with the New York Fire Department—just four months after Sept. 11. They made us lunch, which included a salad made in the biggest salad bowl I had ever seen, and we drank iced tea from mugs so big and heavy that we had to use both hands to lift them. They also showed us how to go down the fire pole; I held on for dear life, screeched all the way down, and plopped ungracefully, but I loved it. Some of the girls were great with the pole—previous work experience, I suppose. We took photos with the firemen and had a truly amazing time.
    When I got back to L.A., my priorities had begun to change. Something unexpected happened: I had begun to really like Hef. He was always such a gentleman toward me, always very sweet and gracious. I was flattered that this connoisseur of beautiful women was interested in me. I was