As some here know, I was raped, back when I was turning 23. I'll tell it again, it was simple.
I was living back then in a well regarded town, La Jolla, California, to complete my internship there at Scripps. Fancy town. I lived in a cottage behind an ordinary house. I liked Scripps, then, and, who knows, maybe now. Money was spare but a few at the clinic became friends.
I was hungry one day and went to a nearby shop in the major/small district part of town, and had a great meal, during which I talked with the proprietor about the great paintings. His, it turned out. He asked me to look at them, and I said sure
Turned out, his studio was very large.
It turned out I was trapped. He was heavier and stronger.