I wake from the weight of his body. David is lying on top of me, pushing against my hips. I feel him pressing his hard penis into me. “Stop,” I say but not loudly. I’m sleepy and confused. I push on his shoulders. He doesn’t stop. I hold my breath as he pounds into my body. I’m afraid to make noise, to shout, to cry, or scream. I’m afraid he will hurt me more if I protest, so I go limp and let him do what he is doing. When he is finished, he says, “My father was right. F**king a woman is like f**king a melon.”

I say nothing as he walks out of my bedroom. I lie motionless, stunned, unable to reclaim my violated body. Unable to understand that I’ve just been raped. It will be years before I will know to call it rape. Right now I am quietly crying. I get up and take a long soapy shower. I keep asking myself what I did to make this happen, this heartless intrusion. Did I somehow suggest he could use my body this way? All I did was let him spend the night—on my couch in my living room—because when he drove me home, there was a thick fog. My apartment is near Lake Michigan and sometimes the lake generates a heavy fog that rises and covers our neighborhood making it difficult to safely drive.

David was a blind date set up by Jim, a man I work with. Jim thought David and I would like each other. He was wrong.........

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