Playground (24 page)

Playground

“My name is Phyllis.”

“Oh my God, you’re blond. I remember you now. You finally

listened. You went blond. Now you’ll finally get a date in L.A., and

if you’re lucky, you’ll get a job.”

Knowing my father is watching, one of the other girls casually

takes off her clothes and walks naked into the swimming pool.

“Nice stroke,” Dad comments as the tan eighteen-year-old

steps out of the pool and shakes her kinky blond hair. Dad passes

around the party mix as he walks over to a group of girls asking if

they want to go upstairs and have some candy. One of the girls

grabs the party mix out of his hands.

“I’ll take this. It’s worth thousands.” She smirks as she steps

into the house.

I go with the party brigade as they move into Dad’s bedroom.

His bedroom has always been a subculture of sex and excess.

Ten girls are now locked in “Doc’s” bedroom. Dumb and

blond, just the way he likes them. They vie for his attention, bitch-

fighting over who has the tenacity and persistence to please the

almighty doctor.

“This is the man who can get you into the Mansion,” one of the

girls explains to the other.

“Do you think I have Playmate potential?” one of them asks him.

“Why don’t you come over here and show me how wild you

can be, and maybe I’ll introduce you to Hef,” he brags. “I can make

you a centerfold.”

All the girls jump into his king-size bed.

“What’s your name?” Dad asks one of the girls—he’s never met

any of them before.

“Lizzi, courtesy of an ex–porn star.”

“I would love to wake up to your face every morning for three

days,” he laughs as the phone rings.

“I’ll have to get back to you. I’m undercover,” he says, handing

the phone to me.

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He loves to include me.

“What’s your name again?” He turns to one of the girls in his

bed. “Look at your big mouth. I bet you can shove a few cocks in

there.”

“I was very popular in high school,” the girl says. Her best at-

tribute is that she likes to swallow.

“Maybe if everything goes well, we’ll spend the week together.”

The next night, Eric Jacobs walks into Dad’s house wearing an Ital-

ian suit, loafers, and dark shades. He looks overbaked from the tan-

ning salon. He’s with some smooth-talking PR guy named David,

who’s in his mid-thirties, handsome, and has two pagers attached

to his belt. They show up sniffing nonstop. Big cokeheads. Where

did these guys come from anyway? I’ve never seen them at the

Mansion.

David extends his arm when I answer the door.

“Hi, how ya doing? David Meyers.”

“Jennifer.”

I shake his hand and he wipes his nose.

Eric gives me a kiss on the cheek.

“Hi, hon. Pops ready?” Eric sounds rushed.

“He should be right down,” I tell them. “Do you guys want

something to drink?”

“We’re cool, we’re cool,” Eric repeats, and I watch as they pace

around in our foyer, edgy, unable to stand still.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell them since I can’t bear watching them

any longer. I slip down the hallway to the kitchen.

“How’s the new model from Sweden doing?” I hear the PR guy

ask Eric.

“Oh, the hooker that just moved in?”

“I tap that ass ten times a day. Before she moved in, I installed

cameras in her bedroom and now I watch her and her sexy little

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friends strip down to nothing. The other day, I walked into the

room and took on five at once.”

“When can I come over?” David jokes.

Dad comes downstairs wiping his nose.

“Jennifer, did you meet David? He does PR for all the hot

spots,” Dad explains and I nod like I’m interested. “Girls . . . let’s

go,” Dad yells and an entourage of blondes descends the staircase

one by one.

We pile into my father’s Cadillac while David jumps into the

back of a black stretch waiting in our driveway. Crammed uncom-

fortably in between two annoying blondes with enormous silicone

boobs, I tell Dad I’d rather ride with David in the limo.

“Do what you want,” he says, so I hop out of the Cadillac and

into the limo.

“Your father’s a great guy,” David says.

“Uh-huh,” I nod.

“Must see a lot of action coming in and out all the time?” he asks.

“It’s incredible: between the eyes, cheeks, lips, and boobs, I

barely recognize the girls when they leave,” I spew sarcastically as

the limo pulls into Don Michaels’ mansion in the Hills.

David jumps out, quickly runs into the house, and comes out

with six tall, thin models he ushers into the back of the limo, and

then pops open a bottle of Cristal.

“The girls are visiting from Europe and as soon as they move

here, we’re going to make sure their careers take off. Isn’t that

right?” David nudges one of the girls, who giggles in a silly way.

“We want to be stars!” one of them yells as David whips out the

coke and a small mirror.

The girls squirm in their seats, itching to inhale until they bend

down and sniff the white lines of powder one by one.

He then takes out a joint and passes it to me. I take a strong

drag off the joint and hand it to the model sitting to my left. David

leans back, placing his arms around two of the girls.

The model to my left takes a hit and offers it to the others, who

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are more interested in blowing rails of coke. She passes the joint

back to me, so I take another deep hit and begin to cough, passing

it back to David. I’m fine until everything starts to become

dreamy. Soon the inside of the limo starts to stretch and recede.

Pedestrians in the streets blend together. Images of people appear

out of nowhere. I start to hear hundreds of muffled voices in my

head. Everyone’s talking to me at once—or are they? My heart’s

pounding. I can’t breathe. What the hell was in that joint? The girls

beside me have deranged faces, swollen lips, and their breasts rip

out of their tight tees. I blink a few times, hoping to shake off this

horrible buzz. My eyes water.

David pats me on the back. “You okay, kid?”

“Was that pot?” I ask, my hands trembling.

“A special blend of pot and angel dust. Isn’t it great?” he says as

his face peels off and turns into a devil with horns. “I knew the

girls would get a kick out of it,” he finishes.

We arrive at the Bistro Garden and I’m so high I can barely

speak. When I step out of the car, the ground seems a hundred

miles down. My feet are heavy as I follow behind everyone else.

Dad, Eric, and the other girls wait for us in front and we’re taken

to a round table where a Middle Eastern high roller from out of

town sits alone. He stands up as we make our way over.

“Welcome,” the man says.

“Ladies, this is my dear old friend, Sufian,” David introduces us.

“Of course, of course, please come join me,” Sufian offers gen-

erously as he motions for the waiter to deliver bottles of Dom.

Within minutes of our arrival, Dad gets paged and excuses

himself. Sufian sips his Johnnie Walker Blue Label and turns to the

blonde beside him. I zone in and out of their conversation, trying

to maintain the plastered smile on my face.

“So, how long have you girls been in town?” Sufian asks.

“Less than a week,” a blonde answers.

“How long do you expect to stay?”

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Playground

“I’m only going to be here for a week unless I get a good job,”

the girl confesses.

“What type of job?” Sufian asks softly.

“I’m a model.”

“Maybe I can help you out. What agency are you with?”

“My agency is in Europe. I don’t have an agency here,” the girl

explains.

“I know the top agents in the city. I can get you work tomor-

row. I’ll call them later,” Sufian mentions calmly as the bottles of

Dom arrive. “You’re so lovely, I bet you can get any kind of job.

What do you do—print, runway? I bet you’re a print model,” Su-

fian says, leaning over to the girl.

“I enjoy print, but it’s tough because there aren’t enough jobs.

No jobs, no money,” the girl says with a Swedish accent.

“It’s true. I bet you’d look really sexy in front of the camera.

Have you ever done any nude photography?” Sufian asks.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Well, are you comfortable doing nude?”

“I love being nude,” she smiles, and Sufian turns to the

brunette with the fake boobs and injected lips.

“What about you? I bet you love to be photographed in the

nude,” Sufian whispers softly to the brunette.

“I always feel better naked,” the brunette confesses.

“Seeing the two of you nude would make me so horny. Do you

ladies party?”

“Of course,” they giggle.

Sufian whispers in one of the girl’s ears. “Let’s step outside to

my limo and start this party. Why don’t you ask your friend to

come along?”

Sufian takes the blonde and brunette outside and I get up un-

expectedly, telling everyone I need fresh air. The whole room is

spinning. I need to get out of here. Sufian notices me tagging along

behind them outside.

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J E N N I F E R S A G I N O R

“We haven’t been formally introduced,” he says as a series of

hands extend from his body. I need to lie down. “It’s a pleasure to

meet you,” he says and the four of us step inside his limo.

“Do you have any blow?” the blonde asks almost immediately.

Sufian takes out a little mirror from a side compartment and

cuts several lines of coke and the girls begin to snort.

“Why don’t you come over and sit close to me,” he signals, giv-

ing the blonde to his right a kiss on the lips. I lean against the win-

dow and curl up as I hear Sufian say, “You’re going to be so happy.

I’m going to get you the best modeling job here in L.A.”

He’s said the magic words. The blonde automatically gets

down on her knees. I blink a few times as she unzips his pants and

starts sucking his cock. I must be dreaming: she is not doing that

right in front of me. He doesn’t seem to mind either.

“Both of you will be on the cover of
Vogue
next month. My

cousin is the owner. You’re going to be so happy,” he says and the

brunette gets on her knees and starts sucking his dick too.

Something weird is happening, but my head is too heavy to lift.

I feel like I’m in Arabian porno.

Sufian lifts the blonde off her knees, pulls up her little plaid

skirt, and starts fucking her from behind while the other coke

whore does more blow. I lean forward and reach for the door han-

dle as Sufian pushes the blonde off him and grabs the brunette.

I jump out of the limo. The cool breeze hits me in the face and

wakes me up a little. I stumble back into the restaurant.

My father is nowhere to be found. Sufian and the girls walk in

a few minutes later. Before they sit down, Sufian leans over to two

new girls at the table and softly whispers, “Why don’t you switch

seats. I want to get to know all you girls better.”

They exchange seats obediently as Sufian flirts with two new

girls, blowing off the ones he’s just fucked in the limo. I excuse my-

self and go to the bathroom. As I enter, I recognize a young, skinny

model with perfect skin and a bright, sunny smile. She leans

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against the counter snorting a line of coke. She can’t be older than

seventeen. She looks at me and smiles.

“Wanna bump?” she asks.

“Sure,” I say, accepting free coke even though I have my own.

She hands me a little Baggie filled with white powder and her

key. I take a few quick bumps and hand it back to her.

“Are you one of the girls staying at Don’s house?” I ask.

“If that’s the really old guy I fucked last night, then yeah, I am,”

she answers and I smile, not knowing how to respond. “I was so

not into it, but he got me so drugged up that I ended up fucking

him. I hope I don’t have to do it again tonight,” she says.

“I don’t see why you would,” I say, not knowing how to answer.

“My agent in Sweden set me up to stay with him and told me

this guy was going to book me a lot of modeling jobs. I had no idea