Like Sand Through Her Finger Analysis

Like Sand Through Her Fingers

She stands in the darkness of the holodeck, staring at the illuminated bed.
It makes her uneasy and restless for a reason that evades logic.
How could he forget something so important when the rules were so simple?
It's supposed to be a void, waiting for her like a fresh canvas. Nothingness, until she gives it substance and form. And he's supposed to delete everything before ending the program.
Always changing, nothing stable. No meaning, no purpose, no goal, except pleasure - and oblivion.
A space where she can stop thinking for just a while, breathe easier without the constant stress that makes her edgy and tense and her head hurt like hell.
A moment when she can leave behind all the voices, around her and
But he won't come here tonight. Because she knows she's finally crossed the line in this endless ocean of self-indulgent passions where they lost their way a long time ago.
Finally. It's such a relief.
***
The mutual attraction sparked between them the first moment their eyes locked.
How often did she wish they had met in different circumstances and half a lifetime earlier? They could've been so happy.
Following a natural path that undefined pull led to stealthy glances and lingering touches, stolen moments of lips and bodies joining in haste, shaded by duties and loved ones left behind, but fulfilling pressing needs, making each day of survival and command that much easier to endure.
And relieving a growing ache inside her she found no other means to deal with.
He was, by far, the most talented lover she'd ever had. For that reason alone, she was in no hurry to end it.
Furthermore, he was attentive and open-minded, willing to go to any length for her - without asking too much.
But the questions were there in his eyes, a multitude of them, waiting to be answered. Along with his need to share what they experienced together, to give and receive on more levels than just this
Her lifeline.
In the end, she had to make a concession.
The manner in which he made his next move was every bit as dirty as she deserved. Asking her if he could take her to bed and just hold her, but not before he ensured she was in a state where no cognizant decisions were possible.
Teasing her relentlessly, bringing her close and withdrawing, denying her release over and over again until she was out of her mind, and then making her climax so many times she lost count and eventually hovered on the brink of unconsciousness.
Though she couldn't recall, it was possible she agreed to his request in that moment of weakness. But when he came to repeat the act, of spooning her and caressing her in the soft bed afterward, she realized there was no real need to object.
At that point, she'd already got what she wanted. The biting, the fisting, the twisting, the whipping. All the pain she could take and more, always leading to an orgasm that ripped her world apart and left her mind blank.
If it kept him coming back to her, this tenderness that was both unnecessary and out of place, it was a small price to