The Four Avengers: Ashley, Laura, Rikki, and Morgan, squeeze into Laura's cherry-red Mustang convertible, top down despite the humid Louisiana evening, and head to the Strand Theater in downtown Shreveport for the midnight showing. The girls' perfumes mingle with the smell of their coconut tanning oil as they strut through the ornate lobby in their platform sandals, feet manicured and toenails polished. Ashley freezes mid...

Ashley Martin adjusted her lingerie top—the black one with lace trim that showed just enough cleavage to make her communications professor uncomfortable—and reached for her vodka soda. The ice clinked against her multiple bracelets as she brought the glass to her lips, leaving a perfect burgundy lipstick print that matched her manicure. At twenty-two, she'd perfected the art of commanding attention at LSU aftergame partie...

I remember that big all-nighter in Baton Rouge back in late September of 2008. It was right after the LSU Tigers laid some very serious whoop-ass on Louisiana Tech, and rumors of an off-campus aftergame party began to circulate. It was the usual chain of organizers, a tight-knit little group of partygoers that came together every Saturday night at Trey's place to drink and dance into the wee hours of the dawn. Trey was on...

In the sultry heart of Louisiana, where the bayous meander like drunken snakes, Ashley Martin, a voluptuous 22-year-old senior at Louisiana State University, is spreading her wings, preparing to study abroad in the vibrant corridors of Europe, teaching English part-time to non-English-speaking natives. She's packing her bags and battling a hangover from an alumni party crash the previous night after she and Laura, her clo...

I was in my cramped upstairs bedroom at my parents’ house in Hammond, Indiana, on a sticky July evening three years ago, sitting cross-legged on my old childhood bed, studying a neon-pink envelope with gold-foil letters spelling NUDAPALOOZA. I often had secret mail sent to my parents’ address, like mail I didn’t want my nosy husband to see. And as I tore open the envelope and ran my thumb over the embossed logo, my cheeks...

Some people like to watch the world burn. And I . . . I want to supply the matches. Or flick cigarette butts into dry grass and watch from a safe distance, which is why I wound up in a car with Keith on a balmy Friday evening, riding from Maryville to Knoxville, pretending to be excited for “dinner and a show,” even though the only thing I wanted to see was how fast I could derail my life before my next birthday. Keith is...

If you were to ask me what my favorite pastime was, I would have to say fucking. Indoors, outdoors, one-on-one, or with a group, I love getting down and dirty with my friends. It’s the Army way, and it’s my way. When duty calls, it’s time to fuck. It was back in basic training at Fort Jackson, South Carolina, during an evening of spare time that didn’t happen too often. Everyone was restless from all the regulations, too...

The bell dings. The elevator door slides open. Two voluptuous seniors from LSU—one dark, the other pale—step out and stroll past the registration desk. The hotel clerk glances up and raises his chin. His narrow eyes follow the boom-da-boom as the two girls swan past the vending machines and side-step an overfilled luggage cart, parked sideways across the corridor. Ignoring the glares from bystanders, they push through the...

Ashley Martin stepped into the bathroom, hesitated, then pulled her gold-lettered LSU t-shirt over her head. She slipped off her panties, catching a glimpse of her pale, curvy form in the mirror. Too fat, her stepmom would say. She turned on the faucet, adjusting the temperature twice before letting the water run into the open drain. She stepped in, scooted her ass forward, and lay back, her freshly manicured feet pressed...

You walk into Two Doors Down, the biker bar you've been frequenting since you arrived in Tennessee. And as your eyes adjust to the hazy darkness, you spot a cowboy hat in the corner, a white tank top, and veined forearms. You claim a barstool next to him and order a shot, feeling the heat from the man in the hat as you strike up a conversation. And as you're telling a recent story about your auntie throwing you out for dr...