Don’t judge a book by its cover.
You’ll tell me you don’t… but you already think you know what my story’s about.
You have no idea.
Just like the people sitting in this courtroom.
She asked for it. That’s what they keep saying.
And no, it’s not because my skirt was too short or I was drunk at a party.
It’s nothing like that. It’s because of what I like and how I like it.
They’re judging me as I sit in the front row, my eyes drawn to the man on trial.
If I’d known it was going to end like this, I never would have gone home with him.
But he’s the type of man I just can’t say no to.
I wanted to feel his lips kiss down my neck.
I dreamed of running my fingers along the rough stubble on his jaw.
I craved his hands on me, pinning me down.
I needed to whisper his name in the dark, late at night.
You still think you know what happened? You don’t.
He’s innocent and I enjoyed every second I was with him.
Let me tell you my story … all about how I asked for it.