Flip Mecum in New York Ch 09

Flip in New York Ch 09

Parts in Oklahoma! and Storm House challenge their relationship

This story is entirely fictional and original. All characters engaged in sexual activity are over 18. © Brunosden. All rights reserved.

Flip....

We were now both in the theatre. At the capital of drama and musicals in the world. But, I knew that my dream had an endgame, maybe four or five weeks into the future--when the "real" Jud recovered from the accident. But, our relationship entered a new phase. And I began to realize that Michael particularly could not compartmentalize his acting ambitions: they permeated every aspect of him--and our relationship. It was still unclear what that might mean for the future.

Michael expressed genuine pleasure at my good luck. He wasn't at all envious--and I knew him well enough by then not to suspect his reactions. He was genuinely pleased. I'm sure you can guess how we celebrated--and it wasn't a fancy dinner at a well-known restaurant!

At first he expressed faux dismay, "Fuck. Now I'm sleeping with a genuine villain. You're already a confirmed top, a natural dom--and now you're going to expect something more. Listen, Flip, I'm really not into bondage and pain. I can't afford any visible bruises. I like things just the way they've developed." I laughed and pulling a mock-stern face, darkened and pointed to the bed.

"On your belly, Michael. I'm gonna celebrate by pounding your ass until you scream for release." Michael "performed" a reasonable strip as he hummed one of the familiar raunchy "country hymns" of Texas strippers. He got his cock into a nice rhythmic swing as he gyrated his hips, all the while licking his supple lips. Then he stretched out on our bed and lifted his arms to the headboard, grasping the pipes. His legs spread wide in invitation, and he pushed his warm pink globes up into my face. Fuck, that ass was so nice. It was definitely an occasion of sin. A work of the devil. But, Fuck Sunday school. This was definitely one of God's best creations. It was meant to be admired--and used. I couldn't wait to get my hands on it and my dick in it.

I too was naked and rock hard within seconds. He turned and his eyes widened when he saw how rigid I was.

But I surprised him. I straddled his waist facing his butt, dipped my fingers into the lube tub on the side table and started working his ass. By the time I got to three, he was trying to launch his butt into my hand, but my weight on his lower back prevented this. His legs began to squirm and his knees hit the mattress trying to get leverage to lift into me, but I calmly and slowly continued to alternate between rimming and poking his prostate. I even bent down and penetrated with a curled lip once or twice.

He rasped out a deeply sexual, "Flip, that's torture. I need you inside now. Please."

I innocently whispered, "Fuck, I thought you wanted me to edge you?" Then, I donned my Jud persona and deepened my voice. "I'm gonna take you so hard and drain you so empty that you won't you wo't be able to sit on a horse for a week--and Laurey won't even be able to coach a hard cock out of you." (Obviously, that's not a line that we doing in Oklahoma!. I was ad-libbing--acting class often required us to do so. So this was just homework.)

His lily white ass began to redden, and his dick stretched so far down his thighs that I was able to lick up the backside when I pulled his legs apart. Once or twice he tightened his anal muscles, trying to hold my fingers on his nut so he could cum. But, I knew what he was doing. Fuck, I wasn't in the escort business for a year and learned nothing! I pulled out and ringed the rim with a lubed fingertip. When I did he hissed, a poison snake wanting to strike, but held down fast by a captor. He was so close. So I sat back and did nothing, although my long cock was nestled softly into his cleft. His ass cheeks tightened again, trying to get friction. I was enjoying this. And my cock was so threateningly close to its home.

He settled a bit, whimpering "Oh fuck"s periodically. When he had completely calmed, I spun around and dropped into the vee. My hands drew his waist up and toward me. And I plunged. Deep, hard, brutal. I bottomed on the first stroke as he groaned in both pain and pleasure. Then I stretched back my legs, fisted his dick to hold him in place while the other hand reached to his throat. I spun his head around and took his mouth. We were both at the absolute precipice and ready to fall into the pit of orgasmic pleasure.

"Tell me Laurey's mine or I'm gonna ruin you for women for the rest of your life, Curly."

"Fuck. She's yours. I want you, Jud. Only you. Stay in there. Deeper, stud. Harder. And fuck, you gotta let my dick go. I need to pump. You can have her."

"Right now, I don't want her. This is way too nice. Maybe I'll give you what you want."

I did and we did--exploded that is. My spasms continued for a a while, maybe a half dozen, until I unloaded and started pumping dry. Then I reached my head down beside his ear, "I think I kind of like this new ending for Oklahoma! Do you think the R&H Trust will go for it? I can already imagine doing this scene with Kirk. From what I've seen, he might even enjoy it. But, I've guessing it might scandalize a few of those grey hairs in the audience--but they'd go home talking about it. That's for sure."

And we both collapsed in laughter. "Not a chance, bro. Not a chance."

And he left me wondering: did he mean that I couldn't get Kirk? Or that the trust would never agree? I decided to play the last card. I reached into the side table drawer and pulled out a 6 in plug, lubed it and eased it inside. "Wear this boy until I give you permission to take it out." My words were harsh, and I don't think he saw the sly smile as I turned away. I pulled him into a spoon and made sure my gut held the dildo in place. Somehow I thought that there might be more unscheduled action on stage that night. My baby-makers were already refilling the chambers. Jud wasn't through with Curly yet. Not by any means.

My six week stint as Jud came to an end all too fast for me. The stage had bit me--or maybe it was the audience. I loved every stage minute. And after seeing me on stage the first night, Angelo changed one of the numbers--as I'm getting ready for a party. The scene now starts with me in my underwear, bare-chested, as I talk (sing) about the coming evening and dress. I craved the adulation (even if it was accompanied by the audience's hatred of the villainous character) and the applause. I knew he was using my body, but I craved the attention. I was part of one of the world's greatest musicals. The voice coach had told me that I had a natural "projecting" voice for the musical stage. And the dance coach had marveled at my quick learning cycle to the few numbers that Jud had. (The voice coach was a woman. The dance coach was a young man. They both came on to me. And I never mentioned my previous experience at Peacock to either of them, obviously.)

But, I knew this was a serendipitous lark. I was beginning to wonder what might come next. Could I return to the tech scene and lighting? Did I have much choice? Angelo was hinting that he wanted something for the changes he had added around me, commenting that he was giving me some exposure that might yield future results. (I knew exactly what results he had in mind. He didn't have a chance.)

Storm House was the highest paying gig that Michael had ever had, but it wasn't enough to support us in New York--particularly after the TV filming ended and he was getting only residuals, which wouldn't start for months. Storm House I was a TV hit, but II wouldn't hit the airwaves for several months, and no one can predict a hit.

At first (when I started in the musical and he was doing Tom Jones), Michael and I had almost the same schedule, and our "normal" bed routine resumed. Then, when he was home and after he started rehearsals for Storm House, our schedules were again totally off--only reversed. That was a challenge. I knew our relationship was built almost entirely on sexual attraction. Either we were unusually highly sexed, or our backgrounds as escorts and porn stars had conditioned us to need it often. To most, particularly those in regular relationships, that is not a problem. In fact it's a joy! But those who've been in the business ask the question all the time: "Can I love?"pr "Am I in love?" or "Is he in love?" or "Is it always going to be just the good fuck." Millions of couples had turned attraction into love and compatibility. We would too.

******

A few weeks after I started in Oklahoma!, Kirk finally convinced me to bring Michael to their place in the Montana on Central Park West. That was an eye opener. So this is how wealthy New Yorkers live! The place was huge. I counted at least eight rooms. And there were obviously more. All had high ceilings, beautiful woodwork and mid-century modern designer furnishings. The dinner was catered, but all the staff except two cleanup women in the kitchen left immediately after serving the meal. Brent liked luxury, but cherished privacy--a rare aspect of life when you're in show business in New York.

Our conversation was lively. It was as though we had known each other for years. All of us had a deep affection for the stage, particularly musical theatre. I learned that Brent and Kirk had been together for over a year. Brent was involved in theatre, but as a producer. He also maintained an active investment banking position--from which we presumed he earned the money to afford the coop. They seemed so casual with each other, so sure, so confident. There was no hint of jealousy. And no hint on Brent's part that Kirk's acclaim was the slightest bothersome to him. They seemed perfect. They were both achievers. Brent had most of the money. But, it didn't matter. They were in love. And their hands were on each other all the time, even in front of guests.

At one point, someone made an offhand comment about Angelo. That was followed by a few moments of dead silence as Brent darkened. Finally he said, "Angelo is a very talented director, but he's a menace to the industry. And to us. He is a predator, the worst kind. He uses his position to take every male actor that appeals to him. Consent is irrelevant to him. He's entitled. He's going to get sued. And the Production is probably going to be joined as a defendant. We know about him, and we let him get away with his crap because he's talented. But, those days are ending, guys. If they're not already gone. We've seen a few ingénues sue in Hollywood. It's coming our way. No more will actors and actresses need to fall into bed with directors, producers and casting agents." Then, he looked over at Kirk. "Present company excepted, of course. This guy better be in my bed every night if he knows what's good for him. I've gotten accustomed to a certain part of him." With those words he chuckled. And we all broke up as Kirk blushed as only a Nordic can do, and quite uncharacteristically, said nothing.

Boy, they had it bad. And sooooo good.

That emboldened me to ask. "How do you guys do it? Brent, you work all day, obviously at a demanding job with long hours. And Kirk works late into the night?"

"I presume you're talking about the sex. Well, just between us girls, let me say it has been a challenge. When I was pursuing Kirk...."

"Wait a minute. You weren't pursuing me. I picked you out of the audience and focused my fairly obvious magnetic sex appeal on you...."

"Yeah, sure. The fact that I was the only guy in the audience during a rehearsal didn't arouse your curiosity. And you weren't singing just to me. And I suppose you paid for that incredibly expensive supper at Sardi's? But, if you say so.... At any rate, our first few dates were at the end of his previous show. He didn't know then that I owned most of that show--an inheritance from Dad. Then he had a few weeks off before he started Storm House. So I took him to St. Martin and we had two fabulous uninterrupted weeks. By the end of that time, I was the only one he wanted. I had pounded him into submission."

"Wow, I guess when you've got the big bucks, you can rewrite history. I think that I did most of the pounding--and you did most of the begging. I seem to recall that a certain hotel masseur was available...."

"But not taken, I seem to recall..."

"And that when we got back to New York, we weren't a couple yet. So I had some fun..."

"Only with Angelo. And I stopped that pretty damn quickly. I don't share well."

"Well, I wouldn't call what I had with Angelo exactly fun. It was an interview for a job."

"Sure. I know all about that kind of interview. But, it was the last such interview you're ever going to have while you're in this house, love."

Kirk, looking more like a naughty puppy than I've ever seen him, murmured, "Yes, Brent." Then he smirked so we all knew it was just part of his schtick. There was no way Brent was taming Kirk--given his success and his looks. But, it was so clear that there was love--enough love that they could tease each other easily, even in front of others.

I was ready to open up to Brent and ask advice about us. I wanted that kind of relationship with Michael--where we could joke about our pasts and give in easily to each other. But dinner was called.

We ate wonderful food--I can't tell you exactly what it was--I was too nervous thinking about how I was going to open up about our personal situation. But the chance never came.

Over dessert, the topic turned again to Oklahoma! Kirk reminded us that he was taking a planned 90 day sabbatical to film the second season of Storm House. O course, Brent already knew--several of his partners were producers. Kirk's departure was going to be an important transition for the show. Some of the cast would leave to populate the first touring company. And, of course, at the same time Stacey was also leaving to resume her recording and concert career. There would therefore be a gradual turnover of many of the leads. Such a transition often leads to a closing. But the producers (really Brent) had a different idea. They were going to use the show as a showcase for new popular talent--and an introduction to new potential audiences. Oklahoma" would have another revival: a 90-day revival with something new and exciting to kick off the new season.

I of course wondered what this all meant for me. Then Brent announced that the actor playing Jud wanted to go on the road--so his role would be open. And his understudy wanted to go with him. Brent laughed that their relationship was new, and Pete didn't trust Jack (Jud) on the road alone. "So, Flip, if you want it, you're the new Jud. You're popular and good. It would ease the transition and keep some continuity. I think you'll love the new cast. Kirk will rejoin you in three months or so."

And so, just like that my immediate future was set. I would be Jud--for at least six months. Longer if I wanted and the revival continued on Broadway as ticket sales seemed to suggest.

Then Brent continued. The producers had decided not to elevate Kirk's understudy to the main role. Instead, they were going to "star-shop", bringing in the lead of one of the most popular boy bands in the world and another female pop star to replace Stacey. They thought that maybe for several years, they'd try to duplicate this strategy--goosing Oklahoma! each year with new 90-day spectacular pop stand-ins. Brent refused to disclose the names. "You'll see the announcement in Variety next week. We're losing Stacey, but we need to continue to attract the young crowd. The new stars will do it. Besides, we'll have the vibe of two headliners as Kirk takes a few months off. This could become an annual thing--revitalizing a chestnut with pop stars once a year.

Kirk was quiet and seemed to be in deep thought. "The only problem I have with this is that I'll be going back as Kirk after a 90-day wonder stimulates demand. It makes me feel insecure."

"You were the one who decided to do the second season of Storm House. We aren't going to shutter a great thing for you. No matter how good you are, Kirk. Besides, the stars are going to have a very different take on the stage--and we're inviting you to rethink Curly when you return. It'll work. Believe me. Hell, every major female star in the world did Dolly. But in the end, there was only one Dolly, Carol Channing. And there's only one Curly in our generation--Kirk Olsen. You ARE Curly. The others are just riffing on your portrayal."

The table went quiet for a long minute (which is about 20 seconds in New York). And so I decided to plunge on. "Brent, how do you guys do it? Your schedules don't gel, obviously. You both have demanding positions. And you obviously don't always agree. Michael and I are struggling with our joint success even now. We seem to have so little time together. And when we are together, we're both exhausted. And we're both being tempted every day."

Michael looked over at me with questioning eyes. He wasn't sure how much I knew, or maybe how much he wanted to open up to this new friendship. It was obvious that I thought much more about us than he did.

"There's no magic bullet. We've obviously given up quantity for quality. I manage to arrange my schedule such that I'm off when the theatre is dark and he's home. We spend most of the day in bed. And we manage a few other times when he gets home or before I leave in the morning. And, I have complete trust in Kirk. I know there are going to be temptations, and occasionally I'm assuming he will be trapped. We have a deal. He wraps and he tells all--and we kiss and make-up. And I get to do anything I want to him."

Kirk was frowning throughout this. Brent was disclosing perhaps a little too much. You could feel the tension in the air. But, when it was over, he leaned over and kissed Brent hard. "This guy is the love of my life. I'd do anything for him, except maybe leave the stage. And after you guys leave tonight I'm going to show him how much I enjoyed his confession. Even if he's made himself to be the leader in our lives. He's gonna beg for release tonight." Kirk pulled Brent onto his lap and held him tight.

And we all laughed in relief. I guess I would hold my disclosures for another time. We had had too much already. It was getting a little uncomfortable. If we stayed much longer, Brent was probably going to be cowed into a lap dance.

Michael announced that we had to leave. It was clear he had been uncomfortable for some time. He had an appointment with his acting coach early the next morning. That was news to me, but....

Michael.....

I got the part in Storm House. It was perfect for my career development, the perfect next step. I wasn't going to play a gay. My character was named Bo (as in Beauregard). Bo is a young "virginal" marine, a Southern "Christian boy," a football jock, recruited out of high school, totally gung-ho to "save "America"--and devastated by more than a year of death and destruction in the desert. Somehow he thought that war would be more like his games--where characters without faces and personalities are regularly blown away. But many of the victims were women and children. He had been forced to mature and face the ugly realties of real war way too quickly. And when he lost his best friend and bud, he went to pieces.

I still had the perfect boy-innocence, the Marine build and stage experience. And I was going to ask Flip to "talk Southern" with me all the time. I'd have to spend some time on my Southern--even though the script didn't require it. I remembered how bad my attempt at Texan had been. I was going to become Kirk's best friend--at least on TV. So I guessed we'd see more of Brent and Kirk. Fortunately, I really liked them. And obviously so did Flip. Fuck, Flip was already treating Brent like his priestly confessor, and he was on stage with Kirk every day. We'd have to talk before he started describing my fucking technique with Brent or getting advice on how to keep me interested in his body. This wasn't Cosmo.