The Glare

I was eighteen and on my first date with an older guy. We went to a local Italian restaurant. Just before the salad arrived, he took my hand and held it, which I thought was romantic and sweet. He kept holding it, so I managed to eat my salad one-handed. The plates were taken away. Then he started to kiss my fingers. The lasagna arrived. He started to suck my fingers, licking each one up and down like it was a popsicle. The guy was totally enthralled with each digit and my hand was dripping. I was so horrified I didn't know what to do. Finally, I snatched my hand back and muttered something about going to the ladies room. I knew there was an exit to the street, so I took it and walked home. I saw him around a few times, but he would never approach me because I would glare at him.

— Jill, 20

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