Flying to San Francisco, I arrived late to my hotel the weekend before the bombing of the WTC and asked my concierge at the Hilton to find me a restaurant where I would feel safe. I wanted it to have fantastic food, not have it be dead or empty, and not have it be a meat market. The female concierge said, “Oh! I know of a perfect place. I know the owner and the maitre’d; they will take care of you.” So she called {a restaurant} to make me a late reservation. ‘She was right, he took care of me. The maitre’d even sat down with me and struck up conversations, so I was not alone, which I thought was a little unusual, but I was fine with it because the place was full and I was eating alone. By the end of the dinner, I remember him saying “This is too easy, I feel guilty.” Soon after, I could barely support myself up (if not at all) for the rest of the evening and was sick for four few more days. He basically took me to his apartment and raped me, (I didn’t exactly resist because I couldn’t even hold my head up). The next morning he brought me back to my hotel in his shiny (maybe newer) SUV. I felt dirty and ashamed that I let this happen. I never reported it because I was in a lawsuit over someone killing my husband (in a crash) a year earlier. If the other attorneys found out, they would have thrown it in my face & publicized it (I didn’t want my mother to know). ..I had told my attorney (female) and my sister. They both told me that I was drugged. I’ve never, at the age of 30, had anything like this happen to me before. I couldn’t believe it. …so I learned quickly, not to even trust the staff at restaurants & bars (which makes it very scary that we can’t even trust them).

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