Fiction/Travel - Searching for...

Some of the people walking through the renovated streets are tourists, and some are locals. You can tell the difference by the way they walk. The locals are at ease, and comfortable; The tourists are in a rush.

I'm somewhere in-between, I suppose.

I wave to the bartender as I walk in. She's rather adorable, with her dark hair and inviting hips, but she's not quite what I'm looking for. The not-so-innocent flirting has been fun over the last couple days, but there's something missing there.

Which isn't surprising; my writer's block is why I flew halfway across the world. Something is missing inside me, too.

For what seems like the millionth time, I pull out my book, and start writing. Words form, and pictures start to present themselves, but it's not the same. The energy and heart is there, but it's soulless. Whatever is missing, it's been gone for months.

And now, with the breeze from the Mediterannean blowing through my hair, I'm still searching for whatever it is I'm looking for.

The bartender brings over a cold drink, and I smile in return, while my fingers itch to write. I need a subject, an idea. I need inspiration. The words I've thrown onto paper in the last week are just that; empty, soulless words.

I look down at the bright blue water and sigh. It's gorgeous, and powerful; I could watch the water hit the surf until the end of time, and still feed bad every time I blink and miss a millisecond of light. This may not be heaven, but it's pretty damn close.

And yet, I still can't take a sliver of the beauty beneath me, and turn it into a story. I close my journal in frustration, and wonder how long this is going to take.

I lean back, and relax. If I can't write, I might as well enjoy the scenery. Over the next few hours, I watch the sun set. This is 5 days in a row of perfect weather. Not a drop of rain, or an overly-cold breeze. I love it here.

The sun lingers halfway over the horizon, when I realize the bar is starting to get crowded. It's almost time for me to move on.

A swath of blond hair over a naked back gives me pause. Leaning over the bar, she's having a chat with the bartender, and...

Hmm.

I grab my drink and walk over to the bar. The blond flips her head and watches me approach.

"Bon soir," She says delightfully.

"Francais?" I ask in surprise. Around here, french is not the most popular language, but I'm not disappointed. It's that or english for me.

"Oui," She smiles.

Look at those lips.

The bartender comes from behind, and casually wraps her arm around the blond. The dark-haired beauty has changed into a far more-revealing outfit. She whispers into the blond's ear, and they giggle.

"So," she says, "Do you have any plans tonight?"

A part of me awakens, deep down inside. It's the primal scream from my loins, the one I never deny. Two pairs of eyes shine, as they watch my face light up. In-between my legs, a different response begins to brew.

I hold out my arms, and we link up, strolling out of the bar to the envy of every man in there. As I feel their soft fingers brush again my skin, it hits me.

I know what I've been looking for, and I know why I came here; to Greece.

It's not sex, I was getting laid back in the States. So why come here?

Because there's an ancient pull to this part of the world, that I've never been able to deny. And when I finally ran into a brick wall, my unconscious ordered me here. Because this is where I can find... them.

In a wry moment, It occurs to me that I must be greedy. For most men, one would be enough.

I didn't come here to find a Muse.

I came because I needed two.

-- The Greedy Bastard