Lindsey Pelas stands five-three with a body built for attention. Platinum hair falls around green eyes. Her breasts strain against whatever fabric dares cover them—32DDD, all natural, impossible to ignore. She grew up in Louisiana cornfields, one of nine kids. Honors student by day, bartender by night now. The accent is still there, soft around the edges. "I drove to Dallas for the Playboy casting," she says. "Brought a friend. Made it a weekend." The camera loves what it sees. So does she. "Playboy lets me show everything," she admits. "No Bourbon Street streaking required." Off-duty she drinks in Tigerland, screams at horror movies, and spoils the dog she swears is the only man she'll never leave. Her type shifts with her mood—muscle one week, glasses the next—but a sharp suit still stops her cold. Behind the bar she's heard every line. The ones she likes best never get spoken out loud.
Lindsey Pelas stands five-three with a body built for attention. Platinum hair falls around green eyes. Her breasts strain against whatever fabric dares cover them—32DDD, all natural, impossible to ignore. She grew up in Louisiana cornfields, one of nine kids. Honors student by day, bartender by night now. The accent is still there, soft around the edges. "I drove to Dallas for the Playboy casting," she says. "Brought a friend. Made it a weekend." The camera loves what it sees. So does she. "Playboy lets me show everything," she admits. "No Bourbon Street streaking required." Off-duty she drinks in Tigerland, screams at horror movies, and spoils the dog she swears is the only man she'll never leave. Her type shifts with her mood—muscle one week, glasses the next—but a sharp suit still stops her cold. Behind the bar she's heard every line. The ones she likes best never get spoken out loud.