Forbidden Heat: My Father's Wife

Premise

When twenty-year-old Jamie arrives at his father's Singapore penthouse, he finds only his stunning stepmother Ting waiting, her silk stockings and deliberate touches awakening urgent desires he cannot suppress. After witnessing Ting and the Filipino housemaid engaged in forbidden midnight pleasures, Jamie finds himself entangled in their sensual web, his persistent erections and racing pulse betraying him during intimate foot massages and lingering conversations. As his father's return creates a dangerous countdown, Jamie must navigate between family loyalty and raw temptation, discovering that Singapore's sweltering climate merely provides convenient cover for the forbidden heat building between a young man and his father's beautiful wife.

Chapter 1: Collision

"Bloody hell, it's hot."

Jamie stepped from Changi Airport's air-conditioned sanctuary into Singapore's walloping heat, immediately regretting his jumper and jeans. The perfect climate control from London to Singapore had masked the tropical furnace waiting outside.

The waiting driver gave a deferential nod. "Mr Bennett senior is in Jakarta, sir. Mrs Bennett waits at home."

Of course his father wasn't here. Charles Bennett had insisted Jamie visit, practically demanding he spend his university holiday in Singapore, only to be conveniently absent upon arrival. Typical.

Within thirty minutes, the Mercedes glided to a halt at a gleaming tower. An attendant opened Jamie's door with a bow. He was whisked upward in a mirrored lift that reflected his dishevelled appearance, dark hair needing a cut, stubble from the long flight, clothes wrinkled from sixteen hours of travel.

The doors opened directly into a vast penthouse apartment floating above Singapore. A young Filipina in a crisp black uniform greeted him with a polite smile. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun, highlighting delicate features and large, expressive eyes. Jamie couldn't help but notice the sheer nude tights she wore beneath her modest skirt, an unexpected formal touch for household staff.

"Welcome, sir," she said with perfect English tinged with a soft accent. "I'm Maria. Mrs Bennett is waiting in the lounge." Their eyes met briefly, and Jamie detected something knowing in her gaze, as though she were assessing him in ways beyond her station.

Maria led him through the entrance hall, her movements graceful and precise. And then, silhouetted against walls of glass revealing the harbour and skyline, stood Ting.

"Jamie." She crossed the room with measured steps. "Welcome to Singapore."

His first thought was visceral and immediate: Ting was stunning. At forty-two, she carried herself with the absolute confidence that came from two decades of men's undivided attention.

Her black hair fell in a sleek bob that accentuated razor-sharp cheekbones. She wore a crimson Valentino dress that clung to her petite frame, stopping mid-thigh to reveal legs encased in sheer black stockings. Four-inch Louboutins completed the look, the signature red soles flashing with each step on marble floors.

"Thank you for having me," Jamie managed, suddenly conscious of every imperfection in his appearance.

"It's nothing," Ting replied, her English perfect with just a hint of an accent. "Your father is very sorry he couldn't be here. There's been an emergency in Jakarta." She offered a slim hand adorned with a massive diamond wedding ring. "You must be tired from your flight."

Her hand was cool and small in his, her grip surprisingly firm. This close, Jamie caught her scent, something expensive that reminded him of flowers after rainfall.

"I'm alright," he lied, though exhaustion clung to him like a second skin.

Her dark eyes assessed him with unexpected frankness. "You need a shower," she said bluntly. "And proper clothes for dinner. Your father expects a certain standard, even when he's not here."

Jamie bristled slightly. "I didn't realise there'd be a dress code."

Something flickered across Ting's face, amusement, perhaps. "There are many rules in Singapore," she said. "Some written, some not. You'll learn." She gestured toward a hallway. "Maria will show you to your room. Dinner at eight."

As the maid led him down the corridor, Jamie caught her stealing a glance back at Ting, something unspoken passing between the women that he couldn't decipher.

---

Jamie woke from a brief nap with his body betraying him. The combination of jet lag, the sultry Singapore climate, and perhaps the lingering scent of Ting's perfume in the apartment had manifested in an insistent erection that throbbed beneath the sheets. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will it away, but found his mind drifting to the glimpse of stocking tops he'd caught as Ting crossed her legs earlier.

This was madness. She was his stepmother, his father's wife. Yet something about Singapore's oppressive heat seemed to melt conventional boundaries, creating a languid sensuality that permeated even the climate-controlled penthouse.

He showered in cold water, then changed into his one decent outfit, navy chinos and a light blue button-down. By eight o'clock, he found Ting on a massive balcony where the apartment's glass walls opened to create an indoor-outdoor space floating above the city.

Ting had changed into something even more striking, a black Tom Ford dress that left her shoulders bare and featured a slit up one side that revealed an expanse of stockinged thigh when she crossed her legs. A simple platinum and jade pendant rested at the hollow of her throat.

"Punctual," she observed, gesturing to the seat across from her. An opened bottle of wine breathed on the table between them.

Ting poured wine with practiced elegance. "Château Margaux," she explained, offering him a glass. "Very expensive. Your father collects but rarely drinks."

Their fingers brushed during the exchange, a momentary contact that sent an unexpected jolt through Jamie's body, straight to his groin. He shifted in his seat, grateful for the concealment the table provided.

"To Singapore," Ting said, raising her glass. "May you find what you need."

"What about what you need?" Jamie asked, the question escaping before he could reconsider it.

Surprise flickered across her features, followed by something more calculating. "That's a bold question from a stepson," she said, sipping her wine without breaking eye contact. "Your father didn't mention you were so direct."

"My father doesn't know me very well."

"Perhaps not the only one," Ting replied cryptically.

Throughout dinner, a current built between them. Jamie noticed how Ting's gaze lingered when she thought he wasn't looking. How she leaned forward slightly when she spoke, offering glimpses of cleavage that seemed both accidental and deliberate. Each time, his body responded with embarrassing eagerness, a primal reaction he struggled to control.

"Your English is very different from your father's," she observed. "More... informal?"

"You mean I sound like a normal person instead of someone with a silver spoon permanently lodged up his arse?" Jamie suggested, the wine loosening his restraint.

Ting's laugh was genuine and unexpected, a musical sound that transformed her face. "You speak too quickly sometimes. It's hard for me to follow."

"Sorry," Jamie said, automatically slowing his speech.

She reached across the table, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. The touch was gentle but lingered a moment longer than necessary. "English is my third language," she explained. "After Cantonese and Mandarin. Before French." She refilled their wine glasses. "Your father speaks like a BBC announcer. Very proper. Very clear. You speak like... a university boy. Too quick, too eager."

"That's what I am."

"No," Ting said, studying him with unexpected intensity. "Not just a university boy. Something else too." She leaned forward, the movement causing her dress to shift. "Something interesting."

Jamie tried to maintain eye contact rather than allowing his gaze to drop to the shadows between her breasts, but failed. When he looked up, Ting's slight smile told him she'd noticed.

Suddenly, the controlled environment of the balcony faltered. With a subtle mechanical sound, the air conditioning failed, a brief system hiccup that immediately allowed Singapore's natural climate to assert itself.

Heat enveloped them like a physical presence, humid and insistent. Jamie felt perspiration immediately form at his temples, at the back of his neck.

"The system does this sometimes," Ting explained, seemingly unperturbed. She rose with liquid grace, moving to a control panel. As she reached upward, her dress rode higher, revealing not just the tops of her stockings but the lace garters that held them in place, a flash of intimacy that sent blood rushing to Jamie's groin. His erection strained against his trousers, and he gripped his wine glass tighter, focusing on the discomfort to try to regain control.

"It will reset eventually," she said, turning back. In the sudden heat, a flush had risen to her cheeks, and tendrils of hair clung damply to her neck.

"Should we go inside?" Jamie suggested, though he made no move to rise, uncertain he could do so without revealing his condition.

"Are you uncomfortable in the heat?" Ting asked, returning to her seat. Without the artificial cool, her scent seemed stronger, jasmine and salt, perfume and woman.

"Not uncomfortable," Jamie admitted. "Just... very aware."

Something shifted in her expression. "Awareness is a good thing," she said softly. "Singapore is too perfect, too controlled. It makes people forget what's real."

"And what's real, Ting?" Jamie asked, her name feeling intimate on his tongue.

She set down her glass, dark eyes meeting his directly. "Heat," she answered simply. "Always heat. Everything else is pretence."

The moment stretched between them, charged with unspoken possibilities. Outside, lightning flickered silently across the night sky.

"So hot," Ting murmured, reaching up to touch her throat where a bead of perspiration traced the elegant line of her collarbone. Her fingers lingered there before sliding lower. "This dress is too much for Singapore's real weather."

Jamie couldn't tear his gaze away from the movement of her hand. "Maybe you should change into something lighter," he suggested, his voice rougher than intended.

Ting's lips curved in a knowing smile. "Maybe." She rose again, moving to the balcony's edge. "Come see the view properly."

Jamie hesitated, then stood, turning slightly to adjust himself before joining her. He stood close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body.

"Beautiful, yes?" Ting asked, her shoulder brushing against his arm.

"Yes," Jamie agreed, though he wasn't looking at the cityscape.

She turned to face him, so close now that he could see the flecks of gold in her dark irises. "Your father will call soon. To check you've arrived safely." Her voice had dropped to nearly a whisper. "What do you want from Singapore, Jamie? Why did you really come?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "Something real, maybe."

"Real is dangerous," Ting said, her gaze dropping to his mouth. "Especially in Singapore."

A phone rang from within the apartment. Ting didn't move immediately, her body still close enough that Jamie could feel her breath against his neck.

"That's your father," she said finally, stepping away. "Always calling, never here."

As she moved past him, her hand brushed against the front of his trousers, a touch too deliberate to be accidental, too brief to acknowledge. She paused, the barely perceptible widening of her eyes confirming she'd felt his arousal.

"Coming?" Ting paused at the doorway, the single word containing a question far beyond its literal meaning.

"Right behind you," Jamie replied, unable to move immediately, needing a moment to compose himself.

From inside, he heard Ting's voice answering the phone. "Yes, Charles. Jamie arrived safely. Very tired from the flight... No, I've made sure he's comfortable... Of course, proper dinner... Tomorrow? But you said Jakarta until weekend..."

Jamie remained on the balcony, Singapore's heat pressing against him like a physical reminder of desires better left unexplored. He wondered if there was something about this place, this climate, that awakened primal urges. Or perhaps it was just her.

The hunt had begun. Who was predator and who was prey remained to be seen.

## Chapter 2: Glimpses

Jamie woke with a start, sheets twisted around his legs and his body responding to dreams he couldn't quite remember. The digital clock read 3:17 AM, but his body seemed to think it was midday, alert and aroused in the darkness. Singapore's nocturnal rhythms pulsed beyond his window, a city that never truly rested, merely shifted into a different gear after sunset.

He lay still, wondering if this constant state of arousal was the result of jet lag, the tropical climate, or something more specific to his current situation. Whatever the cause, sleep seemed impossible. After twenty minutes of restlessness, he gave up and rose, pulling on boxers and a t-shirt. Perhaps water would help. Or perhaps he simply needed to walk, to burn off the restless energy coursing through him.

The penthouse was dark, lit only by the glow of Singapore's skyline through the massive windows. Jamie moved silently through the main living area, heading toward what he thought was the kitchen. A soft sound caught his attention. From around the corner came Ting, padding across the marble floor in stockinged feet, wearing a black silk robe that fell just to mid-thigh.

Jamie froze. She hadn't seen him yet. He watched, transfixed, as she moved with feline grace, those perfect legs ending in stockings rather than slippers or bare feet. The sight sent a jolt through him, his already alert body responding with immediate interest. Something about the formality of stockings paired with the intimacy of nightwear struck a chord he hadn't known existed.

He should announce his presence. But instead, he followed at a distance, watching as she disappeared down a corridor he hadn't explored earlier.

Light spilled from beneath a door at the end of the hallway. Dim, fluctuating, like candlelight rather than electric. He hesitated, knowing he should turn back. Instead, he moved closer.

The door wasn't fully closed. Through the narrow gap, he saw Ting's bedroom. Her master suite. Where she should have been sleeping alone, waiting for his father's return.

She wasn't alone.

On a massive bed draped in crimson silk lay two figures. Ting, now completely naked except for those black stockings that ended mid-thigh with lace tops. Her wrists were bound to the bedposts with what looked like additional pairs of silken stockings. And above her, moving with practiced rhythm, was Maria, the Filipina housemaid. Now stripped of her uniform, her long dark hair cascaded down her bare back, and her full breasts swayed with her movements.

"Slower," Ting commanded, her voice thick with desire. "Always too fast. You must learn patience."

Maria laughed, a throaty sound. "You like teaching, don't you? Always the instructor."

"Some need teaching," Ting replied. "Especially young ones like you. You think youth is an excuse for hurry." Her back arched as Maria's fingers slid between her legs, circling with deliberate teasing motions.

"And what about your young stepson?" Maria asked, making Jamie's breath catch. "Does he have the same problem? Too eager? Too fast?"

Jamie's erection strained painfully against his boxers. He slipped his hand beneath the waistband, touching himself as he watched.

Ting moaned as Maria's fingers pushed inside her. "He's a beautiful boy. Like an unfinished sculpture. He needs proper shaping." Her breath came faster. "Twenty years old. So much to learn about pleasure."

"And you want to teach him?" Maria lowered her head between Ting's thighs, replacing fingers with tongue in long, deliberate strokes that made Ting writhe against her bindings.

"Maybe," Ting gasped, her accent thickening with arousal. "I have certain... lessons... in mind for him."

Maria lifted her head, her mouth glistening. "Do those lessons include this?" She slid two fingers deep inside Ting while her thumb continued to circle above. "Or this?" Her free hand reached up to pinch Ting's nipple, drawing a sharp cry.

Jamie couldn't look away. Couldn't move. His entire body throbbed with arousal as he watched Ting arch into Maria's touch. He stroked himself slowly, emulating the measured pace Maria was setting. He memorized every detail. The contrast of black stockings against olive skin. The way Ting's smaller breasts peaked with tight, dark nipples. The rhythmic motions as her hips rose to meet each thrust of Maria's hand.

"Blindfold now," Ting ordered, her voice commanding even in the midst of pleasure. "I want not to see, only to feel."

Maria reached toward the nightstand, retrieving a length of dark fabric. With deliberate slowness, she wrapped it around Ting's eyes, tying it behind her head.

"Now I cannot see," Ting murmured, her voice dropping to something primal. "It makes me imagine other hands. Another mouth." She bit her lip. "Younger hands perhaps."

"Such wicked thoughts," Maria teased, moving back down Ting's body. "While your husband is away and his son sleeps down the hall." She lowered her mouth again, this time with clear purpose.

Jamie watched as Ting's breathing changed, becoming ragged. Her body tensed, small moans escaping her lips as Maria's tongue worked between her legs. Those stockinged feet pointed, toes curling as she strained against the bindings on her wrists.

"That's it," Maria murmured between licks. "Let go. Show me how you'll teach that beautiful boy to make you come."

Ting's climax was controlled, like everything about her. No screams, no thrashing. Instead, her back arched in a perfect curve, her mouth opening in a silent cry as her body shuddered. Even in ecstasy, she maintained an elegance that stunned Jamie.

"Now you," Ting commanded when her breathing steadied. "Straddle my face. I want to taste you while still wearing the blindfold."

Maria complied, positioning herself above Ting's mouth, facing toward the door. As she lowered herself, her eyes suddenly locked with Jamie's through the gap.

His heart stopped. He'd been discovered.

But rather than cry out, Maria's lips curved in a wicked smile. She held his gaze as she ground herself against Ting's eager mouth, putting on a deliberate show for him. Her hands cupped her own breasts, pinching her nipples as she rode Ting's face with increasing abandon.

Jamie stroked faster, unable to look away from the tableau before him. Maria's knowing eyes never left his as her movements became more urgent. Her lips formed words meant only for him to see: "Tomorrow... you."

He backed away silently, his heart hammering. Maria's knowing smile had turned him from accidental voyeur to invited audience. She knew he was watching and had chosen to perform rather than expose him.

As he retreated to his room, he couldn't shake the image of Ting bound and blindfolded, her stockinged legs spread wide, commanding even in submission. Nor could he forget Maria's silent promise. Or Ting's words. "Beautiful boy... so much to learn about pleasure."

Sleep didn't come until dawn was threatening the eastern sky. And when it did, his dreams were filled with silk stockings, knowing smiles, and whispered commands to slow down, to savour, to learn the virtue of patience.

---

Morning arrived with brutal brightness. Jamie woke with his body once again betraying him, his erection tenting the sheets before he'd even fully regained consciousness. Was it the Singapore heat? The constant, sultry atmosphere that seemed to penetrate even the climate-controlled apartment? Or was it the lingering images from last night's voyeuristic adventure?

He checked his phone and found a message from his father: "Arriving at 4. Dinner reservations at 7:30. Dress appropriately."

He dragged himself to the shower, standing under cold water that did little to wash away the images from the previous night. Had it been real? Or an invention of his jetlagged, wine-addled mind? And what of Maria's silent promise?

When he finally emerged into the penthouse's main area, he found Ting in the lounge. She sat on a plush sofa, immaculate in a pale blue dress that could have graced any corporate boardroom. No trace remained of the woman he'd glimpsed through a half-open door. Maria moved quietly around the room, arranging flowers, now back in her uniform with her hair pulled into its tight bun. She caught his eye briefly, the slightest quirk of her lips confirming that last night had indeed happened.

"Good morning," Ting said, glancing up from her tablet. "Sleep well?"

"Not really," Jamie admitted, pouring coffee from a silver pot. "Jetlag."

Ting's lips curved slightly. "The time difference is difficult for the first few days. Your body wants to sleep when it should be awake. Wants... other things... when it should be sleeping."

Jamie nearly choked on his coffee. Was that innocent observation or deliberate innuendo?

"I've noticed something about Singapore," he ventured, sitting in an armchair across from her. "The heat seems to affect people differently than in England."

"How so?" Ting asked, setting aside her tablet.

"It's more... persistent. Like it gets under your skin."

"Singapore changes people," Ting agreed. "The climate awakens things that cooler countries allow to remain dormant." Her gaze lingered on him. "Have you noticed changes in yourself already?"

Jamie shifted in his seat, acutely aware of his body's persistent response to her presence. "Perhaps."

"Your father returns today," Ting continued, her tone shifting to business-like efficiency. "He expects you to join us for a business dinner tonight. Very important clients."

"Right," Jamie said, struggling to reconcile this poised corporate wife with the woman he'd glimpsed writhing beneath Maria's touch. "I'll be ready."

"Good." Ting set her tablet aside and shifted slightly on the sofa. She grimaced faintly as she reached down and slipped off her stiletto heels, revealing stockinged feet. "Would you mind terribly?" she asked, gesturing to her feet. "These shoes are absolute murder. Your father appreciates the look, but not the discomfort they cause."

Jamie hesitated, then moved to the sofa. Ting pivoted, extending her legs so her stockinged feet rested on his lap. The action was performed with such casual entitlement that it seemed almost normal, a request from stepmother to stepson that crossed no boundaries.

Almost.

"Just a gentle massage," she encouraged. "I have another pair twice as high for this evening's dinner."

Jamie's hands closed around her right foot, feeling the warmth of her skin through the sheer nylon. His thumb pressed tentatively against the arch, drawing a soft sigh of appreciation from Ting. The intimate contact, combined with the lingering images from last night, caused an immediate physical response. He shifted slightly, trying to conceal his growing erection beneath her extended leg.

"Such handsome features you have," she commented as he worked. "Your father didn't mention how grown-up you look now. Those eyes. The girls at university must chase you constantly."

Jamie felt heat rise to his face. "Not really."

"Then they must be blind," Ting said simply. She watched him work, making no attempt to hide her appreciation. "Youth is a gift, Jamie. But you must learn to use it properly." Her foot flexed against his palm, toes curling momentarily. As she shifted her position, her leg pressed more firmly against his arousal. Her expression didn't change, but the slight pause in her movement told him she'd felt it.

"Singapore seems to be having quite an effect on you," she observed, her voice dropping lower. "The tropical climate can heighten certain... sensitivities."

Jamie's hands faltered momentarily before continuing their work. "It's difficult to adjust to," he agreed, determined not to acknowledge the obvious.

Maria entered the room with a tray of fresh fruit, her eyes briefly meeting Jamie's with that same knowing look from last night. She set the tray down and departed silently.

"The driver is available if you want to explore Singapore today," Ting continued as though nothing unusual were happening beneath her extended legs. "Many interesting places to see."

His hands continued their work, moving to her left foot while trying to maintain a clinical detachment that grew more difficult with each pleased murmur from Ting.

"Jamie?"

"Yes?"

"When you speak to important people," she said, fixing him with those dark eyes, "remember to slow down your words." She reached forward, touching his shoulder gently to emphasize her point. "English isn't the first language for many here. If you speak too quickly, your message gets lost." Her gaze held his meaningfully. "Sometimes, slower is better. People appreciate... patience. Understanding."

Her stockinged foot pressed more firmly against the bulge in his trousers, a movement too deliberate to be accidental. "You're very young, Jamie. Twenty, yes? You have much to learn." Her touch on his shoulder lingered, her thumb tracing along his collarbone in a touch that could never be mistaken for maternal. "Some things only come with experience. With proper... instruction."

She withdrew her feet and slipped them back into her heels, rising with practiced grace. "Thank you for the massage. Most helpful." As she stood, she let her hand trail across his shoulder once more. "Singapore's heat affects everyone differently. Some fight against it, others..." her eyes dropped briefly to his lap before meeting his gaze again, "... surrender to it."

With that, she was gone, leaving Jamie with a cup of cooling coffee and the distinct impression that she'd been speaking about far more than language barriers or climate adjustment.

Outside, Singapore's heat waited like a predator. Inside, a different kind of heat was building. One that air conditioning could never hope to control.

Charles Bennett would return in five hours. Until then, Jamie had time to consider exactly what kind of game was being played in this perfect penthouse, and whether he was player or pawn.

Either way, he suspected the rules were far more complex than he'd originally imagined. And his stepmother, elegant, controlled Ting, was undoubtedly the one who knew them best.