Somewhere and sometime, grass is growing beneath a deep-breathing sky where the stars tease themselves from behind the dimming veils of cloud and air. The grass is thick and lush and swept about in broad, wind-tossed whorls, and upon it lay two people. They have spread a cover of light, biodegradable plastic across the ground and their bare feet tangle together with the tufts of grass splaying out from underneath. Neither is clothed, and the faint chill in the breeze that dances aver them puts a feverish edge on the warmth between their bodies.
Perhaps you think you know these two people. That is well and very good, but they are sure that you do not, and you should be inclined to agree with them. They would know best.
These two people are, as it were, both women, and one lays sleepily on her side facing the deepening dark out beyond the plastic covering and the comfortable sward of grass as the other drapes an arm over her waist, a leg around her ankles and nuzzles the hollow beneath her jaw. They have not spoken softly together or stared deeply into one another's eyes for some time, and until this very moment they have been otherwise and very productively engaged. But they have done both of these things before, and they know well.
One hand, long and tan and trailing a thumb shyly behind, describes a long, slow arc down across a soft stomach and around a navel before venturing further. When it comes to rest two sets of breath quicken against the wind and for a good while the silence is held back, until, after the gasping has risen up and died down, one head slumps back against another and the whole assemblage of their bodies topples over, exhausted. A shoulder is kissed.
A voice speaks, and it is low and sounds timid in the absence of volume. Its owner props herself back up on one elbow. Her free fingers trace the muted line of a jawbone. "You know, there's something I've always wanted to know,". It says. "A lot of things, I mean".
For a long moment there is silence as the other woman ponders, and then she shruggs gently away from the draping limbs so that she can roll over. They face each other, now, and now it it is a lighter, blunter hand that moves, slipping and whispering over the first woman's hips . Suddenly, the other woman moves with force, tipping the first woman back off of her elbow posture and fully onto her back before rolling halfway on top of her. She looks down, amused, and then they kiss. When they pull apart, a second voice speaks. It, too, is low and carefully quiet, but perhaps a bit more mirthfully melodic in its intonations.
"Let me see if I can guess," it says. "You want to know how I got you back?"
The first woman nods, and once more they are both quiet.
Perhaps, now, I should elaborate. The reason both women are sure that you don't know who they are is that one of them is sure that only the other knows her, and the other is sure not that the other does know her but is, and somehow always has been, sure that only the other can. This is a discovery of theirs, and they have not yet decided which of them was which. There will be time for that, as with all things.
For now, there is one woman speaking and another listening. You have intruded – well-intentioned as it may be - in a private moment, and it is only polite to listen.
