***My first Literotica submission, I'm still learning the ropes around here. Also first time sharing my erotica. Please let me know if you would enjoy a sequel***

Darius Maxwell peered out of the rain spattered windows of his 87th floor apartment. The cool electric blues and greens of the city lights shimmered through the water droplets that drizzled down the glass panes. It was a fierce evening storm, punctuated by deep thumps of thunder and flashes of lightening. For hours the sky had been releasing its curtain of water upon the hustling metropolis that was New Paris. Not even a storm like this slowed these people down. There was always some business to attend in this town. Always another illuminated cantina with its flashing neon signs, offering stiff drinks and soft girls to ease the tensions of its patrons. Always another huff of spice to keep you going. Yes, this town never slept. And that was why Darius liked it.

Today Darius had business to attend himself. It had been over 6 years since he left the Bureau of Alien Investigations, but the information he had gathered there would follow him for the rest of his life. As with most government agencies, he wasn't allowed to speak about the majority of his work to civilians. Everyone was aware that mankind had encountered alien spacecraft on their colonization missions to Alpha Centauri, but few truly new how deeply involved the humans had become with their new found neighbors. The secrets were tightly kept by the Bureau. Leaks were swiftly plugged. Darius knew many of the Bureau's secrets, perhaps too many.

A sharp buzz went off at his front door.

Darius approached the entrance, and flipped on his view screen. A woman dressed in white and black stood in the hallway. As he suspected, she was right on time. He pressed another button to open the door.

"Good evening, Miss Lyon." he greeted.

He briefly took in her appearance. She was a slender woman, perhaps a few inches over five feet. Her golden blonde hair was pulled tightly into a bun atop her head, giving her a commanding presence. Only the slightest hint of dark green eye shadow decorated her eyes, and the rest of her face was clean of makeup. Her cheeks were smooth like the finest porcelain, but her skin was rather tan. Her lips puffed out like luscious red rose petals. A short sleeved white blouse, low cut to reveal the tops of her pert breasts, clung to the curves of her torso. Around her waist, she she wore a broad, black leather belt that accentuated her hips. Her leggings were a tight black fabric and the outfit was completed with black knee high leather boots. A beautiful woman, Darius thought.

"Mr. Maxwell," she said curtly, "good evening. May I come in?"

Darius stepped aside and motioned for her to enter. "I am surprised you elected to meet me here at my home, and not somewhere in public. I could could detain you here, or even kill you, and none would be the wiser."

"We do not consider you a threat, Mr. Maxwell." She did not look at him.

Her boot heels clicked on the floor tiles as she walked into his apartment. The main room was spacious, and contained the living room, kitchen and an observing area with glass walls that overlooked the New Paris skyline. The apartment was penthouse style, with two floors and a high ceiling. Darius kept it pristine. He enjoyed a clean, open living environment, with room to move and to think. His furniture was modest but comfortable, and matched the flowing style Centaurians preferred.

The woman's heels clicked toward the far window wall where Darius had been standing earlier. Rain continued to batter the glass. Her hand reached out and pressed against the cold, hard surface of the window, and she slid her hand along the pane of glass as she walked around the windows. Next, she turned her attention to the living room, and she moved around the curving furniture, again reaching her hand out to touch the surface. She stopped at the mantle on the far wall where something caught her attention.

Darius watched carefully as the woman moved about his apartment. Graceful, calm. She had a poise about her that he found alluring. The sound of water hitting glass filled the room, until Darius spoke.

"I play, of course. I have no wish to detain you...yet." He paused momentarily to gauge her reaction. Again, the woman did not avert her attention. "Your boss has taken great interest in the Coulari. One would think he wishes to speak to them directly, but I'm sure he knows that is impossible. What confuses me is why he thinks I can help him. My work involved keeping humans from becoming too nosy and prying into Bureau affairs. I never worked with the Coulari." He walked into the kitchen and opened a glass cupboard. "Care for a drink, Miss Lyon?"

She stood near the mantle, admiring a stunning piece of Centaurian holographic artwork. For a moment he wondered if she had heard him. Finally, she turned her head to look at him from across the room. "Yes, please." she said.

He reached up to the top shelf for two glass goblets. From his wine rack he chose a well-aged Earth blend of New Zealand currant and Australian honeysuckle, one of his favorite imports from home. Wine was not made in the Centauri system. Grapes were not able to grow on the planets here to do the particular spectrum emitted from Alpha Centauri, although the native Gaila berries made a flavorful alternative. He carried the bottle and two glasses into the living room and approached his guest. The woman remained facing the mantle with her back towards him, and he could not help but admire her physique. Her well arched back gave way to generous hips, and attractively shaped thighs.

He stopped behind her and gazed over her shoulder at the mantle piece. A three dimensional sphere of green and orange plasma appeared to hover in place over a pool of bright blue neon liquid. The surface of the sphere twirled, pulsed and throbbed as if it were a living organ. Occasionally a droplet of bright colored liquid would leap out of the pool and up into the sphere, absorbed in a brilliant flash of color, while concentric rings spread out like waves upon the sphere's surface. The sphere was large enough to be cupped by two hands, but if one reached for it one would grasp only air.

"The hologram cost me nearly a whole month's salary. I have probably spent hours gazing into it, mesmerized. Abstract, but beautiful." he paused to let her finish admiring the artwork, then, "Wine?" he asked.

She turned and faced him. They stood about two feet apart and it was now her turn to take in his appearance. He stood about a foot taller than her, a man of moderate build, not extremely muscular but definitely fit. He was quite handsome, and seemed to be completely relaxed, which she found attractive. The follicles on his cheeks showed he used to have a beard and mustache, although now he was clean shaved. Short and shaggy brown hair gave him a boyish look. His shoulders were broad and well muscled, and his stance erect and proper. She noticed a bulge along his inner thigh, and assumed he was either carrying a gun or packing something sizable. An attractive man, she thought.

Reaching up to take the goblet of wine from his outstretched hand, her eyes met his momentarily, and he noticed they were intensely green. "Thank you, Mr. Maxwell." she said.

"Please, call me Darius." he smiled at her and took a seat on a red lounge chair, and motioned for her to sit on the sofa across from him.

"I prefer to stand." she said, taking a drink from her glass. With a sharp click of her heel, she abruptly turned her back toward him again, and took a few long, graceful strides across the room. "We believe you have information that you are withholding from us. About 8 years ago, you worked on a unit within the Bureau known as Capsilon X, correct?" She did not wait for him to answer, "As part of this unit, you were sent off world to conduct covert investigations into the locations of Coulari ships and outposts. Over a year you were away from the planet. We know that you were able to determine the location of several of their bases, and that you made contact with the Coulari." She stepped behind him, and stood over his shoulder. "Do you deny that, Darius?" she asked.

He stared into his glass in consideration, and said, "Capsilon X was an experiment. We know that the Coulari watch our every move, but refuse to make direct contact. Our mission was to force them into coming out of hiding. But it was a failure, we never contacted the Coulari." he drank his glass in a single gulp and poured himself another.

She lay her hand on his shoulder and leaned close to his ear. "Is that a fact, Darius?" she whispered.

Slightly startled by her tone, he turned his head slightly toward her and said, "Yes, Miss Lyon."

"Call me Michelle." she spoke softly in his ear. She did not move, but continued to lean close to him and breathed gently onto the side of his neck. He could smell the fruitiness of the wine. Darius remained still, and waited for her next move. After several moments, she leaned away and also finished her glass of wine. Then he heard her heels clicking across the floor, away from him toward the kitchen. He peered over his shoulder, his eyes going first to her elegant form, and then to her hands as he saw her reaching into his liquor cabinet. She pulled out a flask of dark brown liquor, and opened the glass cupboard to pull out two small cordial glasses, and walked back toward the living room. She stopped a short distance from his chair and bent from the waist to place the glasses on the coffee table in front of him. The cork she pulled off the liquor bottle made a loud pop.

"Let's have something a little bit stronger, shall we?" she said, looking at him intently. She filled both cups about halfway, and sat the bottle on the table.

Darius watched her do all of this with interest. Her demeanor was unexpected. Her thirst for alcohol even more unexpected. He had thought to distract her with drink, and now she appeared to be trying to get him drunk. To his surprise, she grabbed one of the cordial glasses filled with liquor, lifted it to her lips, and downed the entire glass with a single toss of her head. She placed the cup back on the table and was pouring another before he had even reached for his. Her expression remained sober.

"You are an intriguing woman, Michelle. I admire your spirit, and your thirst for spirit." He took the second glass and drank, feeling the hot liquor drain its way down his throat. He set the empty glass on the table, and craned his neck to speak to her. "Listen, I agreed to help your boss by providing what information I have on the Coulari, and so I presumed he sent you to interrogate me. Ask me whatever questions you have. Suck me dry for information, I will give you all I know. But don't accuse of me of lying, Michelle. That I will not tolerate." He poured himself another drink.

"I have not accused you of anything." she said calmly, "But you are right, I was sent to interrogate you." She reached for her glass and took a moderate sip. "What was the nature of this experiment you speak of, this mission of Capsilon X?" she questioned.

Darius took a breath and leaned back in his chair. He responded, "The Bureau had been trying to find the Coulari for many years, I'm sure you are aware of that. Their method was brute force, a systematic sweep of the Centauri system, scanning each sector one at a time. While we doubted we would actually find any of their ships, the hope was we would find at least a trace of their presence. A propulsion trail, a piece of hull debris, an electromagnetic disturbance; anything that might indicate what areas the Coulari tend to pass through. The effort proved fruitless, however, and the search was called off about 10 years ago. That was when the idea of Capsilon X began to take shape. Rather than hunt for the Coulari, Capsilon X would attract them."

Michelle folded an arm under her breasts and stuck a heel out, and asked, "How would Capsilon X attract the Coulari?"

"By offering them something they couldn't resist." he said, "Human specimens."

"Live human specimens? Yourselves?" she prompted. Something about her tone seemed off to him, seemed to be leading him.

"Yes, we ourselves were planned to be captured."

"But they didn't take the bait." she said.

"No, they must have realized the ruse for what it was. Or they simply weren't interested."

She took a step towards him, and crouched in front of him, with her arms outstretched and placed on the chair arm. "Darius, what if I told you that they did take the bait, and that you were captured. All of Capsilon X was, but you just don't remember?" she peered steadily into his eyes.

He looked down at her curiously. He noticed how sharp her green eyes were, like perfectly cut gems, they did not quiver in the slightest. Her face remained constant, but he noted a look of sincerity. At that moment, he could not help but admire her beauty. Maybe it was the alcohol doing its work on his brain, but he wanted to reach down and pull her closer to him. With a shake of his head, he realized he had been staring at her for at least ten seconds without saying a word. He was becoming distracted.

"That's not possible. We would have known. Our ship would have recorded an encounter in its data banks and transmitted it back to Centauri." he continued to look at her eyes.

"Have another drink, Darius." She remained crouched in front of him, and reached behind her for the flask. Darius finished his cup and then thrust it out to her.

"Your ship did record an encounter," she held his gaze while pouring the liquor, "in fact it recorded several. Your mission was a success, but the Bureau never told you."

"How do you know this?" he asked.

"That isn't important. But you must believe me, Darius." she touched his leg. "The Bureau realized that the Coulari would never take you if you were aware of your own mission. So they implanted a memory inhibitor in your frontal cortex that they could activate at the appropriate time. You agreed to have this implant installed."

Darius stood up abruptly. "You're lying."

Michelle rose as well. "No, I'm not. Shall I prove it to you?"

He stared at her doubtfully.

"Here," she said, setting her drink on the table, "kneel down in front of me. Please."

Unsure of her intent, but finding himself trusting her, Darius did as she asked. He took one knee in front of her and found himself eye level with her hips. She placed her soft hands on his head and began to squeeze his scalp. Touching just above his right temple, she began to press harder, and work her fingers in a circle. He felt a slight pain from this. With her other hand, she pulled the skin tighter across his temple and lifted up his hair.

"There. Right there, you feel that?" she pressed a finger into his temple. A sharp pain went through his scalp, as if he were poked with a pin.

"Ah, yes." He said, flinching.

"That is the implant. Hardly noticeable, but it is there. If you have a scalpel or sharp knife, I can remove it. However, I'm sure the Bureau would be alerted. I don't know what they would do, or how fast they would react. They may send agents immediately." She removed her hands from his head.

He reached up to touch where she had revealed the implant to be, so he could tell for himself. Indeed, it was there. How had he not noticed it before? If Michelle was telling the truth, then the implant had been in his head for eight years. Eight years! Who knows what other memories the Bureau had taken? What else had they made him do without his knowledge? Darius was dumbfounded. He knew that the Bureau often removed memories from people who knew too much or who stumbled across knowledge they shouldn't have. But the technology worked externally and was a single use that involved strapping a person in a chair and hooking them up to several electromagnetic instruments. He had never heard of an implant that could permanently control a person's memory. Ethical behavior was never a core value of the Bureau, but this was on an entirely different level. Not to mention using it on their own agents!

"Never mind the Bureau. Will the memories come back when the implant is removed?" he asked.

She nodded, "We believe they will, but they may take time. You have no chance of remembering while the implant is in place, because the Bureau is still in control of it. As long as the memory inhibitor is in your brain, the Bureau can control your memory like they would the hard drive on a computer. They can lock you out of whatever memory they want, Darius." A look of regret seemed to cross her face, and her eyes turned momentarily to the floor.

"It is an awful piece of technology. One I hope to make the Bureau pay dearly for some day for using." Her face glazed over and became redder as she mulled the thought.

Darius saw her curse under her breath, then she turned back to regard him. "Once the implant is removed, you will begin to recover your memories. They may return instantly, or may take several years, it is impossible to say. But we do know they will return." she stared at him, wondering what his decision would be.

"So this is the real reason why you were sent," Darius said, "to retrieve my memories. That is the real information you are interested in."

"Yes, that is true. At least that is what my agency is after." She touched his arm, "But I have another reason. A personal reason. Do you have a scalpel?" she asked.

He looked at her inquisitively.


He walked out of the room briefly, and returned a few moments later carrying a black canvas pouch. Setting it on the table, he unzipped it and opened it to reveal a small suture kit. The pouch contained a scalpel, several small blades, scissors, sutures, tweezers, surgical tape and needles.

"Have you ever performed a suture before, Michelle?" he asked.

"Once. Its alright, I have steady hands." she reassured him."

"Good, I hope the alcohol hasn't gotten to you too much. If you don't mind, I'm going to have another before we start." he said, and reached for the bottle of liquor.

"Go ahead." Michelle knelt at the table and began to go through the suture kit. Darius poured himself another drink and sat back in the lounge chair. It occurred to him that her story might still be a hoax. His hands touched his temple again, feeling for the implant. He could feel the small squarish lump under his scalp. Something was definitely there, he could feel the tiny bits of circuitry beneath the skin. That much of her story was true, at least. Despite his doubts, he somehow found himself trusting her implicitly. Why, he was not sure. He watched her gather the suture tools in silence, her small hands preparing the needle and string. Her body was slim and graceful. Her legs were supple, yet strong. Her skin was smooth as the most well polished marble. It was her eyes that struck him the most. Those fierce emerald orbs. When he looked into her eyes, he could feel her fire and her passion.

"I'm ready when you are, Michelle." he said, putting down his empty glass.

"Good, relax. It will only take a minute." She walked around the right side of the chair, and lay her hand on his head, feeling for the implant. When she found it, she steadily raised the scalpel to his skin and made two small, perpendicular cuts. With the tweezers she lifted up the skin, took hold of the implant, and removed it with a swift tug. Darius winced at the sharp pain.

"There, it's done. Let me stitch this up." she said.

He let her do her work in silence. As she worked the suture, he closed his eyes as a wave of euphoria began to wash over him. At first he thought it was the alcohol, but it soon began to feel more intense. Flashes appeared in his vision, and a high pitch ringing began in his ears. He blinked rapidly, and tried to hold his head steady while Michelle finished the suture. Suddenly an image appeared in his mind.

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