A writer who is a journalist and advice columnist says in a piece published by New York magazine that both Leslie Moonves and Donald Trump assaulted her in separate incidents in the 1990s.
In an excerpt from her book “What Do We Need Men For? A Modest Proposal,” E. Jean Carroll says Trump followed her into a dressing room at Bergdorf Goodman in the mid-1990s and assaulted her.
“The moment the dressing-room door is closed, he lunges at me, pushes me against the wall, hitting my head quite badly, and puts his mouth against my lips,” Carroll writes. “I am so shocked I shove him back and start laughing again. He seizes both my arms and pushes me up against the wall a second time, and, as I become aware of how large he is, he holds me against the wall with his shoulder and jams his hand under my coat dress and pulls down my tights.
“I am astonished by what I’m about to write: I keep laughing. The next moment, still wearing correct business attire, shirt, tie, suit jacket, overcoat, he opens the overcoat, unzips his pants, and, forcing his fingers around my private area, thrusts his penis halfway — or completely, I’m not certain — inside me. It turns into a colossal struggle.”
Carroll writes that she was eventually able to place a knee in the way and push him off of her before running out of the dressing room.
She goes on to describe an alleged encounter with Moonves in the late ’90s, when he was president of CBS Entertainment. After interviewing Moonves for an Esquire story, she says he followed her into an elevator at the Hotel Nikko in Beverly Hills.
“He says: ‘Smart enough to choose an out-of-the-way hotel,’ and he steps into the elevator behind me and, his pants bursting with demands, goes at me like an octopus,” Carroll writes. “I don’t know how many apertures and openings you possess, Reader, but Moonves, with his arms squirming and poking and goosing and scooping and pricking and prodding and jabbing, is looking for fissures I don’t even know I own, and — by God! — I am not certain that even if I pull off one of his arms it won’t crawl after me and attack me in my hotel bed. Hell, I am thrilled I escape before he expels his ink.”
We encourage readers to click on the link above to New York magazine to read the full piece.