Flip and Trey Ch 01

A gay story: Flip and Trey Ch 01

Flip gets a new part and a new partner

This story is entirely fictional. All characters engaged in sexual activity are over 18. References to past or present Broadway musicals are co-incidental. Many of the characters is this series will be familiar to those who have read one or more of the Flip series or “Ya Gotta Do”….on Literotica But these stories are written to be stand-alone. There are four chapters in this part. All are written and ready to go. © 2024, Brunosden. All rights reserved.

The “whole cast” change for Oklahoma! is looming. The musical has now been running for almost two years. The original star Kirk Olsen had left for a couple of three month periods to do a TV film, but he had been replaced with “pop stars” each time. That kept us alive and “new.” Now the producers have decided to completely recast after a final “goose” to the box office with short runs by two country stars, Lisa Turner and Jake Williams.

Kirk, my dear friend and star, is leaving the company for good to co-star in a Netflix made-for-TV movie series. It’s a multi-generational story of successful immigration by Nordic peoples, a period piece, set in 19th century rural Minnesota.

The producers have asked me (I’m Flip Mecum by the way, who plays Jud.) to stay on through the complete recast, scheduled for early December—and after if I choose. But, I think it’s time to leave. Two years is enough for any role, no matter how good. (It’s now September 25 and the country stars begin their roles next weekend so I’ll be leaving around Christmas.)

Then there’ll be a new Jud, the villainous character that I have played and remade in the last year or so. I’m on my way to meet with my agent who seemed really excited about something. His office is in the Theatre District, just west of Broadway. I wondered if he had a firm proposal related to my potential entry into popular music, including an international tour, really created by You Tube. I’ve got nearly a million followers on Facebook now.

I’m Flip Mecum, born and raised, poor and isolated in small-town Texas. I ran away from an abusive situation and ended up in Houston where I had brief stints as a gay club dancer, escort and porn star, before I landed in New York. Another actor that I had met (and fallen for) in Houston and I had been living together in a coop we could barely afford at the Montana—before he was lured away to Hollywood. (I still live there, the nominal owner of the place.) We broke up about three months ago, and I hadn’t heard from him since. I knew that he had completed his first film (including a week’s filming in New York). He hadn’t called, and I hadn’t tried to reach him. I’m assuming we’ll have nothing more to do with each other. I knew the film was not a box office smash, but he had gotten reasonably good reviews. So he was probably staying in LA to try again.

I’ve got the body of a porn star—I’m six foot, with swarthy clear skin covering a gym-built physique of photo-worthy muscles. I’m lean, so my abs and pecs really “punch” when appropriately lighted by a pro-photographer. I have dark eyes and black hair set in a chiseled face, and a hooded porn-sized dick. I had never intended an acting career (even the porn flics had been a fluke engineered by my pimp in Houston). But the proverbial lightning had struck more than a year ago—when I was elevated from “first chair” lighting tech at the Winter Garden to a supporting role as the villainous Jud in Oklahoma!. My day job is theatrical lighting engineer, and I’m damn good at it.

The original Jud was a one-dimensional, almost cartoonish all-bad guy. Criminal. Unkempt and unwashed. Slovenly dressed. Foul mouthed (and probably foul-smelling). Not really evil, just distasteful and anti-social. Someone you wouldn’t want ever to meet—particularly in a dark street. That was expected of a villain in the innocent portrayals of America of the post-war era. But it was not me.

Slowly I had evolved the role—as I had moved from run of the mill go-go dancer to a Rhinestone Urban Cowboy at Peacock. First, I insisted on being well-dressed, clean, with perfect slicked hair and manscaped facial hair, not a scruffy Amish-type beard. I would have perfect manners and an alluring smile. If I was the evil force in the musical, I was the slick devil that was going to lead you into big time temptation! I was suave and smooth talking—even letting my slow, oily Southern drawl re-enter my personality. Lies and promises rolled off my lips like a seasoned politician. I was temptation with a capital “T”. The kind of guy that every father keeps far from his daughter—usually with little success. (If only they knew: I was no threat. I’m gay. They should have been worried about their young college-aged sons!)

With daily workouts, I slowly bulked up. My shoulders broadened; my neck shortened; my pecs hardened; my abdominal pac deepened. I might be evil—but I was Superevil! Super-evil sexual temptation on a narrow-hipped stick!

Jud’s personality began to morph also. He was no longer one-dimensional. He was a young man with a troubled past who had often been put down and persecuted. He had lost his family as a young boy and moved through various foster families and orphanages where he had to fight and connive to survive. Thus his personality (by the time of the musical) had changed to a calculating, careful, slick, badass tempter and liar. With a soft creamy center.

The audiences loved the subtlety of Jud—he had survived by wit and work. He wasn’t a victim; he was a survivor. And society (Curly) was defeating him again, putting him down yet again while the female lead (Laurey) was playing around with him to tease and trap Curly.

He was modern. And many New Yorkers, on the make, not always scrupulous with CV or promises, began to identify with me, the anti-hero. Gone were the days when audiences always rooted for the guy in the white hat.

And I learned that I could dance, act and had a fairly decent baritone voice. I was near the crest of the Broadway success heap.

*****

I walked into Miller’s office and was immediately ushered by his bosomy, sexy “assistant” to his private space. By then, I was one of his most important clients. He had asked for an urgent meeting—it couldn’t wait until dark Monday. He wanted it yesterday. (I was fortunate that Miller was not the kind of casting agent who had me on his couch before we could talk. He was a seasoned pro and had become a good friend. I tended to respect his advice.)

Over the next few minutes he outlined a part that he wanted me to audition for. Broadway was now all about remakes, prequels and sequels. ALW had been persuaded to do the prequel to Phantom—essentially the story of how Erik Claudin got to be the Phantom. This is the story: He was a renowned international opera tenor (I knew immediately that was going to be a reach!), whose face and neck had been splashed with acid after a performance of Madama Butterfly by protesters challenging the patriarchal, militaristic stance of a major power. (Guess which one?) His face was completely disfigured and couldn’t be restored by the greatest plastic surgeons of the time. (The musical is set in the 30’s.) He goes into a depressive funk. His friends all leave him. Parts dry up. But a former student, an apprentice soprano adopts him and leads him back to life. She’s a daughter figure, but he sees her as a romantic partner. He uses his wealth to purchase an opera house so that he can be near (and unseen by) his loves (Lydia, opera and opera houses—in that order). Phantom of the Opera, the hit Broadway musical, picks up from this point.

Phantom is the star. An opera virtuoso whose career is destroyed because of his ugliness—but whose voice remains. Ugly political extremism has again destroyed art, and the artist who creates it. The prequel is all about his trauma, his railing at the unfairness of a God who would give him a voice; then take away the chance to use it, his resurrection at the hands of Lydia—and then his crushing defeat as she begins to go on with her life—with another “normal” boy—another opera star. (Anyone who knows opera will attest that there are no “normal boys” who are good opera singers. They’re all would-be divos.)

Only half of my face would ever be seen—the other half always covered in a mask. My bulk would give the robed character a sinister super-human dimension—not an evil super-hero, but a giant of a man, who had known success and dominance, dealing with trauma and rejection. And sexually repressed, not out of choice but out of circumstance.

Miller giddily announced the role was made for me. “This is the role that will make you a Broadway star, Flip.” (Duh, based on the press, I thought I already was!) “No dance, but the flowing robes preferred by the Phantom would require your deft footwork and ostentatious movement.” He even had a voice coach lined up. He was so excited that it wore off on me. So we scheduled the audition. Rehearsals would start in a few weeks—in New York. Then, he dropped the nuclear device, “By the way, Brent’s producer syndicate has a majority of the ownership. He’s the one who called me.”

Brent was my neighbor, one of my best friends, my confidante, and my “almost landlord”—he had provided the funds to acquire the coop. He had helped me over Michael. And he was Kirk’s guy. Probably my best, non-bedded friend in New York.

I had a show that night, and so I headed back to the Winter Garden to prepare. My head was in the sky with the possibilities, but I needed to center myself and move into my Jud persona before the curtain. Costuming and make-up always helped. So did sitting in a dressing room surrounded by the memorabilia of the role.

I knew it was bad luck to celebrate before I had even auditioned. But I needed to talk to someone. I knew that Brent would be anxiously awaiting Kirk’s return later, so that was out. Even if he were free, I didn’t want to prevail on our friendship to get the part. And so I txted Trey: “Cum by tonite, love? Meet me at the stage door?”

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