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What inspired you to write your book?
This book was inspired by late night films on a film channel in the UK. There was an Italian film about pent up frustration in a Convent in the middle ages. The memory stayed with me and recently popped back in my mind and I just had to write it. I was also inspired by Umberto Eco’s Name of the Rose and the young apprentice played by Christian Slater.
Here is a short sample from the book:
We had got a little way when another Sister, Beatrice, who could only have been in her early twenties, strode up to us to advise that Bianca and Daniella were required to assist with the preparations for supper. The two young women headed back to the convent with the Sister leaving me with Isabella to continue the task. She did the best she could but it was clear that she was not capable of heavy toil and as she scoped manure from the cart she somehow managed to trip and fall awkwardly to the ground.
I rushed to her assistance and asked if she was ok.
“My leg, it’s my leg!” she cried, “I have twisted it or something.”
It was not proper for a young man to put his hand on the person of a woman and for a moment I did not know what to do.
“I will run and get help” I said, looking around me to see if any of my hosts were in sight. They were not and the convent was about 5 minutes away.
“No please stay Enzo. You can help me!”
I looked at her face and saw that she was really beautiful. I could see the radiance of her pale skin and her clear blue eyes. My eyes then focused on the narrowness of her nose and her generous mouth and full red lips. My heart melted when I gazed upon her.
“OK I will stay until help comes.”
She winced and said “Ow, it hurts, can you look please, I am not sure I can walk.”
I looked upon her and hesitated, not knowing where to start. I had not touched a woman’s bare flesh before and although my learning was limited everything I knew warned me that it was sinful. But my companion cried out again and I felt compelled to try and help. My eye ran down the length of her habit to the hem. She was completely covered. Cautiously I raised the bottom of her robes a little so her feet and ankle were exposed.
“Which leg have you hurt?” I enquired and she told me it was the right one. Carefully I straightened the leg and after some hesitation placed my hand around her ankle. It felt strange to be touching the skin of a woman but I found it to be surprisingly pleasant.
“Does it hurt here?” My companion shook her head and motioned me to proceed further. Cautiously and carefully I lifted the fabric of her habit until I exposed her calf and shin. Placing my hands upon them I rubbed up and down her skin, hoping to bring her some relief from the pain she seemed to be suffering. As I rubbed firmly but sensitively her face changed and it seemed the pain troubled her less. I was about to cease and re-adjust her habit, ensuring that she was modestly dressed once more when she whispered.
“ No not there, the pain is a little higher.”
I lifted her habit to just above her knee and proceeded to rub the back of her leg and her knee joint. I didn’t notice any bruises or swelling and from her deeper breathing I was again satisfied that her pain was reducing. She looked up at me coyly and speaking softly she said:
“No Enzo. I think the pain is in my thigh. You will need to move a little higher”
This troubled me as we were alone together and she was already showing a lot of exposed flesh. However she needed my help and in my efforts to relieve her distress I obeyed and pushed her habit above her knee. I rubbed her lower thigh again taking great care to soothe any discomfort she was feeling. She sighed a little as I rubbed. My eyes were now fixed on the hem of her habit and the dark shadow of the couple of inches of her thigh that I could see by looking up it. The sight of her pale creamy legs stirred something in my loins and I began to shift as my manhood began to swell beneath my robes.