It was difficult.

Oh, Elda was having the time of her life, but I couldn’t get past the language barrier. I wasn’t good at learning languages, and picking up Italian wouldn’t be quite so simple. Some words I could get, but I didn’t hear them when people talked too fast. Elda even tried to work with me at night, but I didn’t seem to get better.

I was starting to think the only way I was going to learn Italian was to sit in a class, and I dreaded it. Elda promised I didn’t have to, though. Not that I would, regardless. Not when I could self-teach myself on the internet, no matter how long it would take.

There were a few people that spoke English, not all quite fluently, but I could understand. Still, I wouldn’t let that deter me. I was good at doing anything I put my mind to. And I didn’t need to speak a language to know how to do hard labor.

Because of the language barrier, Elda ended up doing a lot of the negotiations. She also talked to the men brought to work on the houses about my hanging around. I could take care of myself if they wanted to mess with me anyway, but I was glad she told them I wanted to help where I could, so I didn’t have someone get in my way. When I wanted to do something, it was a simple thing to lend a helping hand.

I started to watch and observe them building the houses so I could understand exactly how to work. And I participated in laying the bricks and the hard labor of putting the villas together. It was grueling work, not the kind I was used to, but I took it as a learning experience. It was better than sitting idle all day when most everyone else had something to do. Even Elda was busy a lot of the time, dealing with the paperwork and the business side of things.

Besides, I loved when, after a long day of hard work, I'd wander to the back porch where Elda waited, sitting under an umbrella on the back patio with a pitcher of something waiting for me; water, or juice, but usually lemonade with ice in it, and after working under the heat for hours, I appreciated it.

I'd laughed the first time she did it, sitting back under the shade in a loose dress and dark glasses. When she saw me come up, she got up and poured me a glass of lemonade. She smiled as I reached for it, and said something unexpected.

"Reward for the handyman."

I had the drink, we had an intense make-out session, and I went back to helping the workers. The second day, I dragged her inside for a quickie on the kitchen island. I took her from behind as she leaned over the counter, it was fast, dirty, and rough, and we both loved it.

It turned into a game of sorts, I would come back, and she would be out wearing the most provocative thing she could and still be decent in case anyone else saw her. Once she'd been out without a bra, wearing a simple white dress that was practically see through up close. Or she would be without any underwear entirely, and it drove me crazy. I'd be tempted to take her outside, under the heat where everyone would see, but instead dragged her into the house. We pretty much christened every room and most of the flat surfaces in the house because of that little game.

"Why the hell do you keep doing this," I'd asked one afternoon when we were sitting on the tiles in the kitchen, clothes still out of sorts, catching our breath.

She'd laughed. "Remember when you told me you'd always fancied living in Italy, and mentioned something about all the women? Well, this is me distracting you so you don’t look at anyone else."

I'd sputtered, not sure if I was amused or indignant. "But we hardly see any women out here. All the construction workers are guys, and who else would be coming out here?"

She'd just laughed, turned around on me and took my cock in her hand. It hadn't been ten minutes, and I needed to go back out again, but she held me in her hand until I was up for another round.

Between our afternoon activities, our night activities, and the hard labor I was working on in between, I would either work myself into exhaustion, or I would grow stronger from the workout.

I didn’t miss my past life, and that was a surprise to me. The killing wasn’t exactly what appealed to me, but the high adrenaline and the action definitely had. The few times I nearly got myself killed aside, I had loved that part of the job. but it felt just as good mastering a new skill, even if that skill was putting up a building from the ground up.

Though occasionally, I would think of the family I'd lost and how they would have loved her. Elda seemed to have some sixth sense for when I was feeling down and she was always there to distract me, and I did the same for her the few times her emotions overwhelmed her. It was a give and take sort of relationship, something new and wonderful that I had no idea could exist.

It wasn’t something I ever thought I would have.

I was happy in my new life with Elda.