Free Hidden Away by J. W. Kilhey Page A

work the violin—it truly was late now.
“Please join us,” he said before I could decline.
    The muscles in my face contracted as I folded my hands tightly together. “Perhaps another night,” I responded.
    He turned his whole body to me now. A hand moved to my knee again. I sat up straight. It was no longer hidden under the table, and fear of someone noticing the action and making assumptions washed over me.
“You like denying me, do you?”
    With those simple words, the anxiety vanished. It no longer mattered that he was touching me in public. The playful words spoken in such a deep and rich voice sent my whole body into such a state! Even my toes tingled with excitement. I stumbled for something to say in return. I wished to be playful like him. I wished to let him know that I was worthy of his attention. That I craved it.
    But what came out was a denial, as if I took his question quite literal and didn’t understand the underlying meaning. “N-no. Of-of course not. It’s just my uncle will be cross if I stay much longer. Truly, I’d love to—”
    “Good. It’s decided then,” Peter interrupted, causing me to bite my lower lip as I listened. “Tomorrow instead of dancing—since you don’t dance—we’ll play music just for fun.” Peter removed his hand and sat up with a straight back. “Would you care for company on your walk home?”
    Heat spread within me again as I pictured us walking alone through the deserted streets. I thought of how lovely it would be to have him press me against the cold bricks of my uncle’s apartment building, his lips against mine.
    My uncle. What if he was waiting for me? Could I disguise my attraction for the famed Herr Waldenheim, or would my uncle just know how much I longed for Peter’s elegant fingers to touch my bare skin?
    With that in mind, I once again declined Peter’s invitation. I wanted to tell him how it pained me to do so, but I couldn’t. I was frozen in fear that he wouldn’t understand, or worse, that he would tire of me. I was nothing of note to begin with, but denying him all he asked was sure to frustrate him.
    He stood up when I did, shook my hand, and let his fingers graze my palm as it ended. “Until tomorrow, Kurt.”
    I swallowed hard and looked toward the door when he said my name. It proved too much sensation to hear his voice, look at his handsome face, and feel the heat coming off his body. “Good evening,” I said in way of parting.
“Look at me, Kurt.”
    Just as before, I complied with his simple command. Our eyes met. His deep blue was like an ocean waiting to crash over me. I couldn’t help but think that being swept away would be bliss.
“Until tomorrow,” he said again.
     
I made sure to push the edges of my mouth up as I once again replied, “Good evening, Peter.”
    So lost in my thoughts, I was home in no time. As soon as I entered the sitting room, I heard my uncle. “And where have you been?”
    It was late, and he should have been in bed. “I was with the others. We practiced and then we,” I started but then paused, knowing he would find issue with where I’d been. “We went to a club. An approved club,” I added, knowing he would need that bit of information; otherwise he might be even more upset.
“A club ?”
    “There were soldiers there,” I said, hoping this would help him put it in perspective. “It was a National Socialist Party band, you know.”
    I kept my gaze trained on his feet. I couldn’t bear to see his expression. I’d learned very early in my stay that my uncle had certain expectations of me, and when I failed to meet those expectations the retribution would be swift and harsh— especially if he felt I had brought shame upon him in some way.
    “You should be spending your time on music. Every waking moment , if I recall the conversation.”
“There was music there,” I said before truly thinking about the statement.
    I could hear the crunch of the rug underneath his hard soled shoes. My