Sex & Scandal at Duke

''A few generalizations apply to the entire 'Core Four,' '' an anonymous Duke student blogger who refers to himself as the ''Dukeobsrvr'' writes, in an entry he calls his ''How-to Guide to Banging a Sorority Girl.'' First off, ''they are all insecure. The fact they joined a sorority is evidence that they feel a need to be labeled a part of a large group of attractive girls in order to feel good about themselves. Of course, they don't realize that entering the sorority world is entering a world of intense scrutiny from all directions . . . which compounds their already existing lack of self-worth. In turn, these delightful young ladies deal with their massive insecurity by getting fucked by frat boys. Lucky for us guys, frat boys treat sorority girls like shit. As soon as Sally PiPhi thinks she has secured Johnny Soccer Player, Johnny is off boning Chrissy Tridelt. . . . All of this leads to unhappy, insecure girls all fighting to get rammed by someone of status.''

The Dukeobsrvr goes on to rank the women of the Core Four in terms of their ''hotness,'' or social standing. ''I would include a ranking for sluttiness, but in general all four are equally slutty,'' he adds. Naomi's sorority, according to the Obsrvr, is one of the ''hottest'' sororities, and as such would prove difficult to tap into, he says, ''unless you are part of the lucky group of dudes that pass these bitches around.''

The ''luckiest'' group of dudes, in many a Duke guy's estimation, are the men of Delta Sigma Pi, the ''alpha males of the Greek system,'' as the Obsrvr writes, who, as such, ''consistently attract the highest quality poontang.''

The most exclusive Delta Sig party, where girls are concerned, is ''World War III.'' It's a rushing event, held every January at one of the fraternity's off-campus houses or apartments, to which the choice women of Duke come, attired as skimpily as possible, on instructions to ''haze'' the fraternity's freshman pledges.

Naomi and Anna were both invited to this year's World War III, which they were thrilled about, they say, despite a few reservations about what allegedly goes on. The goal, for the men of Delta Sig, is to get their would-be pledges as wasted as possible, by having the thirty or so women in attendance douse them in massive amounts of alcohol, and then encourage them, in various suggestive and often sexual ways, to pledge.

''We were like, yes, we're going to do this -- because [the guys] choose,'' says Anna. ''They're very selective.'' Those who receive these choice requests look at it as an ''honor.'' To be invited, they explain, means ''you're the hottest of the hot.''

World War III is a ''progressive'' party, held in a series of rooms, each of them occupied by different groups of girls, and each with its own theme. One of the themes was Dazed and Confused -- a reference to the Richard Linklater movie set in a high school in the 1970s, in which the seniors relentlessly haze the freshmen while getting totally wasted themselves. The girls wore short-shorts, tight, low-cut T-shirts and whistles.

The girls awaited the freshmen, who, dressed only in their boxers, were led into their room by some Delta Sig brothers. The girls had props: whipped cream, chocolate syrup, baby bottles, pacifiers. The ''hazing'' commenced: girls straddling the boys dominatrixlike, shouting obscenities, calling the boys ''babies,'' making them suck on bottles filled with alcohol. Girls poured shots of chocolate syrup on one another and smeared their chests with whipped cream. Then they made the boys lick it off. ''It was like a huge dry orgy,'' says Anna.

On the one hand, this was a powerful experience for the girls -- they got to dominate the boys for a change. On the other hand, it was all done at the direction of the boys, for whom the party was designed.

''The girls are doing it as a friendship gesture for these guys, but when you think of it, it's really kind of demeaning,'' says senior Matt Sullivan, a brother in the Eta Prime fraternity.

World War III is hardly the only party like this at Duke. Another fraternity hosts an annual ''Playboy'' party, where the boys get the same girls who attend WWIII to dress up in Playboy-bunny outfits and walk around carrying trays laden with cigarettes and shots. There has also been a ''Dress to get Lei'd'' party, a ''Presidents and Interns'' party, a ''Give It to Me, Daddy, I Want It'' party, a ''Secs and Execs'' party, a ''Snowjob'' party (''Work Hard, Play Hard, But Bring your Lingerie?''). Even Duke's Africa organization has had a party: ''Pimpin' All Over the World.''

Sullivan's fraternity, Eta Prime, hosted a notorious ''baby-oil wrestling'' party during Rush Week in 2005, in which the brothers filled a kiddie pool with baby oil and invited girls to wrestle one another. ''It was copied from the scene in Old School,'' Sullivan says. Loud enough for neighbors to complain, it was broken up by cops after about an hour. ''The police report made it look like a big misogynistic thing,'' Sullivan says. ''But the girls volunteered to do it.''

''The idea is that you come to these parties -- they put women in a subservient role, to say the least -- dressed as some fantasy, right?'' says Lisker, who points out that this is not just a phenomenon at Duke but a fairly common experience at campuses across the country. ''I want to say to them, 'Why are you going?' '' The problem is, women don't always recognize it as demeaning or subservient. Anna, for example, sees it as powerful. ''It's kind of like domination through sex,'' she says.

But Lisker maintains it's exactly the opposite. ''They've gotten this message from the media and other places that part of being a modern woman is sort of playing with your sexuality. But you get in this situation where they think at this party that they're exercising control. They think that they're showing these boys how it's done by pouring grain alcohol down their throats, by dressing in a sexy way. What they don't necessarily get,'' she adds, ''is that you put on that Playboy-bunny outfit and you're stepping into a history of objectification.''

In a prior life, before it became known as the site of an alleged rape, the little white house at 610 North Buchanan Drive was called the ''crack house.'' Members of one of the school's top fraternities lived there, and in other homes in the neighborhood as well. Students recall ''a lot of late-night action, mostly cocaine-induced.'' It's an era that's gone now, to a degree, given that Duke recently purchased most of the places as somewhat of a face-saving measure after neighbors repeatedly complained.

But 610 North Buchanan, until about two months ago, escaped the buyout and remained a top party house. And the guys who lived there -- three team captains -- hosted great, loud, Beirut-playing parties, to which they'd invite every pretty girl on campus.

''Their parties had more intoxicated cute girls taken off into rooms and having one-night stands than most,'' says Sullivan, who stresses, ''This wasn't any sexual assault going on at these parties. The girls were fine with it. Because it would be like, 'Ooh, it's a lax player. Look what I did -- I scored.' ''

Sullivan finds the idolization of the lacrosse players mystifying. ''I don't know where this sensibility comes from. Maybe it's just athlete glory, for girls. I don't know?. It doesn't make sense.'' Even the vaunted Duke basketball team doesn't get that kind of adoration, he believes.

''It's the way they carry themselves,'' says Sarah about lacrosse players, but really athletes in general. ''Frat stars and athletes -- those are the only ones that matter. I mean, honestly.'' Sarah looks at Allison.

''And except for three of them, they're not that attractive,'' says Allison, sighing. ''I can think of, like, three or four guys that I'd be like, 'He's hot.' But that's it.''

''I think the girls here are so much better-looking -- there are so many good-looking girls at this school,'' says Kasey.

As if on cue, a pair of gorgeous girls, one blonde, one brunette, show up dressed in tight jeans, pashmina shawls, gold jewelry and pearls. Both seniors, they're graceful, poised and seem to have the concept of ''effortless perfection'' down.

The women approach, and then leave a few minutes later with two boys who were sitting near us on the patio. One of the boys wore khakis, a white Duke baseball hat and a button-down shirt; the other was also in a button-down, with jeans and loafers. Just a couple of twenty-one-year-olds, shuffling away.

The girls look at one another conspiratorially.

''Those guys?'' says Sarah. ''Total frat stars.''

''Super-frat,'' says Allison. ''Frat-tastic.''

''And that guy,'' says Kasey, referring to the guy with the hat -- ''he gets so much ass.''

It's fairly amazing, since neither boy seemed to exude any charisma. ''That's what we're saying!'' the girls scream in unison.

''You see these girls and you're like, wow,'' says Allison. ''And you see these guys and you're like?'' Once more they look at the guys, who've re-emerged on the patio alone.

''I mean, no. Just no,'' says Allison about the guy with the hat. ''But you see how he carries himself? Like, 'I'm the man.' '' She sighs. ''I feel like in the real world, these guys would never be with these girls -- they're way too beautiful. And way too intelligent.''