Disclaimers: as before. Not mine, but please don't reproduce etc.

Warnings: even sillier than the last chapter, lots of nearly-nudity, and mild implications of slashiness!

Thanks for those reviews, gals! Aryea - I did consider letting Nigel put his clothes back on before Derek arrived… and then I came up with another plan!

Part four: Derek to the rescue.

'Okay Derek, got it! You'd better get your ass over here in five, or else!'

Sydney slammed shut her mobile and stomped back into the bedroom from the ensuite.

'Okay, Nige, Derek is going to be here with the key very soon. He says the best thing to do for now is to keep still, like I said, and to keep calm.'

'Keep calm?' moaned Nigel, raising his free hand to his forehead in despair. 'How am I supposed to do that? These things could blow me to kingdom-come at any minute! I'm doomed!'

'No, you're not. In fact, Derek has let me know a few things we can do to prevent the things from, uh, going 'boom'. They're pretty high-tech – they can sense an acceleration in heartbeat, a rise in body temperature - all the stuff that indicates somebody is trying to escape. So if you just…think nice thoughts and keep cool, everything will be just fine.'

'Keep cool? What do you mean? Can't I even put my clothes back on?'

Sydney grimaced guiltily. 'Err, he didn't recommend it. No sudden changes of temperature, you see? But don't worry, Derek and the bomb squad will be here any minute.'

'The bomb squad! You mean he's not coming alone?' Nigel hands slipped over his eyes. 'Oh God! I wish the ruddy thing would just explode and be done with me! Err, what are you doing?'

Nigel peeped through a crack between his fingers to see Sydney whipping of her low-cut black top and peeling down the waistband of her leggings.

'Trying to make you feel more comfortable! If we're both just wearing our underwear, the explosives squad will hardly even notice!'

'You think!? Of course they'll bloody notice!!! But at least they'll be looking at you, not me…oooh!'

Nigel closed the gap in his fingers - or at least pretended to. Sydney was now wearing only her lacy brown bra and knickers. His heart-rate distinctly accelerated as he felt her sink down onto the mattress beside him.

'I think you'd better go hide in the bathroom,' he murmured weakly, turning away from her onto his side to avoid the dangerously arousing sight of her. 'If I'm going, I don't want to take you with me!'

'No,' replied Sydney. 'It's my fault you are in this mess - well, sort of - and we're in it together. Right, I think it's time for that Tai Chi massage! Let's sort out your Sen flow!'

Nigel decided not to argue as she rolled him onto his front, careful not to jolt the handcuffs too much. He suppressed a yelp as cool, slender fingers jabbed sharply into a rigid muscle somewhere at the back of his shoulder-blade. A pounding in Nigel's heart, accompanied by an initial terror he was about to explode, was almost instantly overcome by a sumptuous sensation of well-being. Her other hand found a similarly angst-ridden spot on the other side of his back, and began to rub into it with firm, circular motions. Nigel began to feel positively relaxed and sleepy.

'Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,' he sighed. 'This makes it almost all worthwhile. Are you, uh, going to get the oils out?'

'I thought you'd gone off being oiled?'

'I'm warming to the idea again,' replied Nigel, all but melting as Sydney began kneading her palms down the middle of his bare back.

'Well let me know if you're getting too warm,' reminded Sydney. 'We don't want to set off the, err, 'you know'! I'll get the oils in a minute - are you ready for the next move?'

'Uh huh,' replied Nigel.

'Right. Here we go then!'

Crack!

'Aaaaaaaargh!'

Nigel wailed loudly as Sydney began stomping up and down his back.

'What the hell are you doing?'

'It's the next move in the Tai Chi massage,' replied Sydney, who now had a foot on either of his buttocks, transferring her weight from side to side. 'It really unblocks those energy pathways. It'll make you feel completely revitalised!'

'You nearly gave me a heart attack! It's amazing we didn't blow!'

'Really?' Sydney jumped off his bottom, landing lightly on the mattress. 'I did warn you.'

'I was expecting something relaxing!'

'This is relaxing…' Sydney broke off as Nigel peeped at her over his shoulder, looking hot, bothered and anything but calm. 'Okay then, maybe that move's not for you. How about this?'

Nigel inhaled sharply as Sydney lay down and stretched out her body - full-length - on top of his. He could feel her every intimate curve moulding softly into him. It felt great…

'The important thing here,' Sydney was saying, 'is to clear your mind of all its clutter. Imagine you are floating on the top of a beautiful, calm ocean…'

Nigel scrunched his eyes shut and tried as hard as he could, but it just didn't work. Sydney started undulating gently up and down on him, skimming her fingers down the underside of his arms and pressing her knees into the back of his thighs.

'Nnnnnnnnnng! No! It's no good, it isn't working. You're going to have to get off of me!'

'I admit your Sen is a little blocked, but we'll be there in a minute if you just think of that ocean… '

'I can't, Sydney! Don't you see? All I can think of is…is…'

'Is what?'

'…is you lying on top of me in your bra and panties! Now get off, before I set the handcuffs off and scatter small parts of me, you and your expensive lingerie all over a wide area between here and the British Museum!'

'Okay…'

Before Sydney could move, however, there was a splintering crash. The window shattered to the floor as somebody swung through it, boots first, and landed upright on the carpet.

There, with the end of a rope dangling from a noisy helicopter in one hand and an unnecessarily large machine gun in the other, was Derek Lloyd. He was wearing nothing apart from a snug-fitting pair of khaki Y-fronts which, naturally, allowed him to display his extremely muscular physique to great advantage.

As Nigel stared in horrified disbelief, four other commandos arrived in a similar fashion. They were also naked apart from their underwear.

'Derek Lloyd, about time,' growled Sydney. 'Nice pants!'

'Thanks, Sydney. I decided it would be best if the boy's and I came with minimal clothing – I thought it would make Nigel feel less conspicuous. I'm considerate guy, you know?'

'You sure are,' grinned Sydney, with only a small hint of sarcasm.

'You look great too, by the way. Like the lace! Good job I didn't go for it today, or we would have matched!'

Derek winked and tossed away the rope. Still the holding machine gun, he began stalking towards the bed where Nigel remained prostrate under Sydney's thighs.

The other guys formed a row by the window, grinning at the lovely view of Sydney in her skimpies.

'And how are you holding up, Nigey-boy?' asked Derek, deadly serious beneath the jaunty tone. 'Making the most of the situation, huh?'

Often, at such moments, Nigel's first instinct would have been to snap a sardonic reply. However, there was just something about Derek Lloyd that always seemed to make him go a little giddy. In all other respects Nigel Bailey was quite heterosexual but, amongst other things, Derek Lloyd always eerily reminded him of an older boy at boarding school - a boy who had once admired rather more than he ever believed was 'platonic'. Right now, moreover, he felt he was right back there at that hated institution, cowering both curious and terrified in the corner of the showers.

'Oh, Derek!' he cried suddenly. 'You've got to help me! I don't want to die!'

'Sssssssssh, it's okay now.' Derek patted Nigel reassuringly on the shoulder. 'Err, Sydney, you might want to step away.'

She shook her head resolutely. 'No way. I'm staying right here!'

'Right there?' articulated Derek, trying not to draw attention to the fact that Sydney was now sitting on Nigel's lower back like he was a pony. 'Err, okay, as long as you're both comfortable. Comfortable, Nige?'

'No I'm bloody not!' he whimpered. 'Can we please get this over and done with?'

'Okay,' began Derek authoritatively, dropping his machine gun so he could fiddle with the medal cuff around Nigel's wrist. 'Here's the deal. Has anybody got any sort of lubricant?'

'What?!' cried Nigel, his mind boggling again.

'What the heck?' demanded Sydney. 'I thought you had a key!'

'Uh, it's been stolen, Sydney. This is all high-level, need-to-know stuff. Crimelords the world over have been after it and, err… '

'Okay, so let's get this straight. You lied about having a key, and all you propose is that we use lubricant to try and wriggle Nigel's wrist out of these things?'

'Uh…yeah. Got a better plan?'

'No! Apart from I'm pretty sure we could have done that without you and the goon squad arriving and causing me to have to claim on my travel insurance yet again! Why didn't you just say?'

'Errr, well, because it's a highly delicate operation, Sydney. This is a job for expertly trained Ops…and…uh…'

Sydney spied a moment of almost subliminal eye contact between Derek and Nigel - and, barely discernible though it was, she was pretty sure she saw Derek Lloyd blush.

'Okay,' she thought herself. 'So next time I want advice on doing something by myself…I won't tell Derek Lloyd that Nigel is almost naked and chained to the bed!'

She grabbed a bottle of massage oil from her satchel. 'Will this do?'

'Great!' Derek poured the contents of the bottle over Nigel's wrist. 'It's going to be a bit of a squeeze, though. Who the heck made the handcuffs this tight?'

'That would be Nigel,' answered Sydney knowingly. 'But we're going to discuss that problem later…'

'Will you please stop talking about me as if I'm not here!' spluttered Nigel. 'If you must know, I was just experimenting…err, no, that wasn't it. Oh, I don't know!! I just wish I could get the damn things off!'

'I know, I know,' soothed Sydney. 'Do you think you can get your hand free now?'

'I'll try…nnnnnnnnnnng!' Nigel scrunched his hand up as small as he could and tried to slip it through the cuffs, but to no avail. 'It's no good, it just doesn't fit! Oh God!'

'Would it help if Sydney and I took hold of a leg each and pulled?' asked Derek helpfully.

'I'd think I'd rather die,' muttered Nigel. 'Look, is there any other way?'

'There is one way,' conceded Derek. 'Most of the chain between the cuffs is primed to explode if it is broken… but there is one section that you can safely sever with a precision blow with an axe.'

'An axe! No thanks!' Nigel renewed his efforts to wiggle out his hand.

'I could do it,' announced Sydney suddenly. 'I saw a fire-axe in the corridor, it'll be a breeze.'

'This is no job for a civilian!' countered Derek. 'If anybody is swinging that weapon, I am!'

An axe was quickly found by one of Derek's bomb squad. Derek and Sydney stared determinedly at each other, Sydney still sitting on Nigel, and Derek perched on the side of the bed with his machine gun, both claiming the right to execute the fateful blow.

'Nigel should choose,' barked Sydney. Derek agreed.

'Of course, I won't resent you if you don't choose me,' she told her assistant. 'But if you choose Derek, you'll be making the wrong decision.'

'Choose me, Nige,' smiled Derek sympathetically. 'Sydney's good, but this isn't her specialism. She'll chop your hand off!'

Nigel glanced frantically between them. Of course, he wanted to choose Sydney, but what if Derek was right? He knew Syd had great coordination, yet if she was just one millimetre out, it all could be over! But could Derek, with all his special Ops training, really do it any better?

He swallowed hard then took a deep breath. Which one should he choose?

Well, what a cliffy, huh? My 'other half' read this and told me I should be certified insane… anybody agree? Please review ;)