Flipping and Treying in Chapter 2

Flipping and Treying in Chapter 2

Flip and Trey: Chapter 2

Introducing the 'Rents - or some of them

Two weeks ago, Trey asked me to book tickets for his family of eight to watch Oklahoma! It was a challenging task with the stars just embarking on their tour and the box office being chaotic. Although I managed to find eight seats in the second row, center, he had also bought suites at the Waldorf for a week. Guess who would be arriving soon? This was standing in the way of breaking the news of our relationship to his relatives. We spoke with Brent and Kirk for advice, but they still had no clear idea on how to handle the situation.

Brent had never faced any parental issues as his father passed away without knowing about his sexuality, and Kirk's family had always accepted him. However, Brent issued a warning, "The truth is going to come out, probably next week. Be prepared with your response. What do you want? What do you need? Trey, is Flip more important to you than your family?"

Things got heated between us. This situation made us realize our commitment to each other and a long future together. Trey's expectations were to work as an engineer, possibly in the South with his family playing matchmaker, while I wanted to pursue acting in New York. Although I could go back to being an electrician and even seek a job in the Maguire Empire, it wouldn't be easy for me to return as an openly gay couple.

Trey told me, "If it's between you and my family..." This made me a bit confused. "Trey, I'd give up theater for you. But, in a few years, will I resent you for this? Or will you resent me for pushing you away from your family?" It wasn't a perfectly clear cut answer, but it was the best we could come up with at the time.

As I was debating the implications of these decisions, Trey received his parents at the Waldorf. He planned to work while they stayed there. They were instructed not to accept any additional responsibilities that week and instead live with his sister every night. To avoid the 'couple' act, Trey and I decided not to show off our relationship, and if they inquired, we would admit it the two of us would be strong together, ready to withstand any storm that came our way.

The first night was a dinner, which did not involve Trey since he had to work. He had planned to live with his sister every day that week. Once his mother asked question after question about his ex-girlfriend, Trey had to carefully navigate the conversation. His sister revealed they had a 'breakup' to divert attention from his sexuality. His mother became more agitated, asking if he was embarrassed by them or if Angela was a Yankee, of a different race.

Now, visitors at the suite watched Trey as his mother shared some strong emotions in her speech. Her message was clear: "Boy, you've been with this girl for six months. You must know everything about her. Is it shame? Are you hiding something?"

Once again, everyone in the room listened, expecting a response. "Momma, the truth is, Angela is no more. The breakup was final two weeks ago. I don't have any girl right now in New York. I'm not interested in dating New York girls either," Trey replied.

Trey had to face the hard truth - his mother had high expectations for what her son's future would be. His destiny was set to be with his family in states like Mobile or Birmingham. His passion for theater lighting could not be combined with this path. I, on the other hand, am a first-and-foremost actor and could not return to the way of life in the South, especially as part of a gay couple. If Trey's family accepted us as a couple, their relationship status would also affect the possibilities for Trey's future.

We both spoke, each making our own sacrifices. "If it's between you and my family, it'll be you, Flip. There's no alternate," Trey stated. "I want you with all my being. But will I regret this decision later? Or will you wish I had been home with my family?" I couldn't claim a ready, clear-cut response. But my dedication to Trey outweighed concerns about the future.

This decision marked the start of Trey's meeting with his family. He worked and stayed with his sister, revealing their 'breakup' to answer any inquiries while we waited for further developments.

Sis was about to pose a potentially damaging query: where were you on those nights you were away from home since the split? However, Daddy intervened, saying that the cars were waiting downstairs to take everyone to dinner. This query was nullified, and Momma, Sis (along with three Aunt Ems), used the time to speculate on the situation, except for the actual one.

The subject of Trey didn't resurface during dinner. Instead, Momma questioned Sis, who didn't want to disclose much about her man. Evie had a dream role. She graduated from Loyola in New Orleans, majoring in fine arts (painting) and museum curatorship. She landed a job in a four-person team at the Museum of Natural History to renew the dioramas. (There were 40 display cases, and each one required renewal every decade. The team dealt with four a year, making their employ permanently secure.)

Nobody had met Evie's boyfriend, and we just knew they met at Loyola. We learned later that he was a painter, living in his studio in the West Village. He hadn't held an exhibition, and he was struggling financially. Therefore, Evie provided food for their "dinner dates" which often ended in his loft bed. We also found out (much later) that his works were seen as blasphemous or even sacrilegious to Trey's Evangelical family: they showed God doing ordinary human activities like drinking with friends or sleeping with women! Declan wasn't the feared "Yankee." He was an Irish exchange student who had overstayed his visa (and hence was "illegal"), and he followed the Roman Catholic religion - not just devoutly, but expected Evie to convert. She might be in love, but she was definitely in deep trouble!

Trey managed to escape after dinner and returned to his sister's home, afraid that the Angela storyline would no longer hold water. (Evie believed that Trey was romancing various Broadway actresses or groupies found at the theatre. She refrained from interrogating further, as she wouldn't want to discuss her own situation, either.) The night at the theatre was next for the family.

The Maguires were joyful about the excellent seats and surprised by a wedding image and "Congratulations on your 35th from the cast of Oklahoma!" tipped into the first page of the program. Trey's reputation boosted further with Evie and the sister who went to New York.

The performance was remarkable. Kirk had left the cast, but I persuaded Lisa and Jake to pay a visit at the Green Room where the three of us joined the cast for "Happy Anniversary," a cake cutting, and champagne uncorking. Some brief speeches were given, and then Lisa and Jake left, as they had fans and admirers waiting.

Trey then introduced me to Jack and Momma. "Flip's been my workout companion for months - ever since he saved my rear at the Barrymore. Apart from being a movie star, Flip is an accomplished electrician. The entire industry knows him. During our wiring project at the Barrymore, we were flailing with no assistance and a deadline. Flip appeared and rescued the project. Even in his age, he's considered a seasoned mentor for new lighting management in modern theatre. Not to forget, he got the tickets!"

I shook hands with everyone, noting that Momma and Sis were keeping a close eye on me. (Both required hugs - "Hand-shaking is for men, young man.") To avoid uncomfortable conversations, I focused on discussing the deficiencies of contemporary stage lighting with Jack. They invited me back to the Waldorf for a nightcap, but I politely declined. "I've got a matinee and an evening performance tomorrow and a long coaching session with my new vocal coach. Maybe next time. It's been great meeting you all." I glanced around, "And each of you. Have a good time in New York."

As I left, Momma called me to the side and appeared anxious. "So I need a fresh recording. Your performance of 'Lonely' was incredible. It's hard to imagine listening to 'Poor Daid Jud' without shedding a tear. Now, are you interested in consorting with my daughter... Either one?"

"I'm sorry, ma'm. I'm buried in rehearsals these days. Trey's been doing a good job selling, as you've noticed. She's really attractive."

"You'll be intelligent and wealthy just like your brother one day." She grinned widely, grabbed my arm, and asked, "Can I get a kiss from a Broadway star? We'd love to see you again. I knew you'd find a workout buddy as strong and attractive as you are. And remember my daughter. I have four of them! We'd love to see you in Mobile. You'd transform my social standing for a long time." She laughed, but there seemed to be something more to her invitation and her laugh.

"Of course." I shut the door behind me, feeling that she knew and understood everything.

Apparently, she asked Trey about the breakup with Angela and, strangely, when he started to lie, she switched the topic and wanted to know all about me.

Trey had several more lunches with his friends, did some touristy activities, and took them back to the plane. They enjoyed a memorable experience.

Trey came home right away, seeming exhausted from the week of pretending. "We made it through that." Then he added, "Mom asked for a kiss as I left. She said, 'If that man makes you happy, don't let him slip away like Angela. Good friends don't come along often. Do you think she knows?"

"Of course, she does. But, she's waiting for you to tell her. She won't tell Jack about it either. Mothers have a sixth sense about these things. Remind her that she did your laundry for years, and she's probably discovered your stash of porn."

I went to prepare for bed, and when I reentered the room, Trey was waiting for me. He was naked, spread out in the center and clearly aroused. "I can't believe how much I've missed you. Four days. I'm turning into a monk. And I'm not even Catholic."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I'm done with patience. Patience is overrated." He pulled me toward him and removed my t-shirt, returning to squeeze my nipples. His head dove to my chest and nibbled on my nipples forcefully. Man, he was hot! And I think I said that already.

He pushed me onto the bed, removed my shoes and jeans, and pounced. His erection pressed against my entrance as he sucked on my nipples and left hickeys on my neck. My arousal responded. He was wild and intense. Oh, I did say that too.

Without any hesitation, his tongue moved down my spine, causing me to shudder with the wetness and the expectation. The tongue reached my tailbone as his fingers separated my buttocks to continue his sexual journey. He circled the anus, curled, and poked. I relaxed and he entered me. The first thrust felt fantastic! And then the smooth glans rubbed along the sensitive prostate, pulled back, and pushed forward. It was love at first touch—penis and prostate. I raised my ass to meet him, and he responded by grabbing my cock and balls, rolling them between his fingers like big marble shooting targets, warming them up for fun. Then, he dove in and held it in. "What's your secret, boy? I need to know. I think it grew your cock a few inches. You're giant!" He rode my body, thrusting in and out with full force. "Welcome home. I hope you can stay a while."

Trey made love to me like a song, with his strokes striking all the right notes. I felt him stretch and press, feeling the sensitivity become more apparent. Then, there was a slight contraction, a brief pausing of motion, signaling that he had tightened his glutes and relinquished control. He lengthened and expanded. Contraction, then a large drop of pre-cum. Again and a surge of ejaculate. Another and another. Each one rubbing and hitting my prostate. The last thrust pushed me into the orgasmic climax as his fingers relaxed on the base of my shaft. I leaked, then emitted another burst, then, as his fingers massaged my balls, I squirted one last time. And I was empty, but filled with his cock, his cum, and his affection. He had emptied me and refilled me with his sperm!

It was high time for him to cement his victory. He encircled me with his arms and tucked me in with his thighs. His head settled in the nook of my shoulder as his lips traced my cheek and lingered on the edge of my lips. "You've been plugged in, dear boy. Rightly and sufficiently plugged and planted." It was during these times that I realized just how large and powerful he actually was. That "Bama" football player had claimed his conquest. And the release would be granted only on his terms. I shuddered at the sensation.

Several days passed before he stood up and assumed the spoon position, keeping me close for the remainder of the night. We had survived the initial onslaught of his family. Nevertheless, we were aware that it would only be a matter of days or weeks before Momma would demand her favors.

We spent the subsequent days together. Trey was preoccupied, and I couldn't help but inquire. He had been experimenting with the programming for the lighting sequence at the Barrymore. There were several problems with the current soft and hardware. If an actor (or actress) missed a line, a cue, or didn't make it to the designated spot on the stage, a human had to adjust the lighting; preferably immediately. This is why every production had two technicians: one with their hands ready to type away at the keyboard and the other with a joystick in hand. Fast techs, like Trey and me, could override the issue and master the lights, while the rest needed to make adjustments. But, once a mistake happened, the remaining lighting cues had to be adjusted manually. The program was "dumb" and didn't "learn" or "adapt." Miss a cue, and the rest of the program would be discarded until the following scene or even act.

Trey had been tinkering with ways to override the mistake and introduce self-correction: so the technician simply had to interfere for a few seconds. Then the lights would recognize the resumed command.

Furthermore, Trey started delving into the realm of improv. Much of Broadway and movies were migrating towards improvisation. And computer lighting was limited. Several different configurations and sequences could be programmed, but a technician had to manually select each one. Some performers preferred to move about the stage freely, engaging in unscripted activity. They were adverse to staying in one spot, whether seated or standing. Trey aimed to create a lighting system that would "learn" logical sequences and operate to correct glitches or mistakes. He had spent months addressing the problems.

However, one serious challenge had yet to be conquered: what happens when actors use improvisation to rejoin their prepared sequence? Couldn't the program identify when the pre-programmed sequence was reinstated and adapt accordingly?

This would entail the system "listening" to what was happening onstage and possibly even "seeing" it using some form of speech and facial recognition technology to resume its function. State-of-the-art theatre lighting technology did not address any of these issues. In fact, it was barely a step above fully manual adjustments or even motionless stage lighting.

Trey turned to me for assistance. So, we worked together on the problems and tested potential solutions. He focused on the software while I tended to the hardware. LED lighting and wireless control technology were advancing at a faster pace than expected just five years ago.

Eventually, we deemed the project far enough along to engage the support of mass coding and create some hardware prototypes. Trey wished to go to Mobile to present the concept to his father. He would require the financial backing and the manufacturing capacity available in his family's business, Maguire Electronics. It could represent a tremendously lucrative venture.

I had completed my production of Oklahoma! in less than a week. Additionally, Andrew Lloyd Webber decided he needed some time to rework some of the music in his next musical, so rehearsals were set on hold for two weeks. We would have about a week—just one week—next week, for our journey to Mobile.

We both knew that should we embark on this endeavor, everyone would learn of our relationship. But we also realized that for Trey's invention to reach commercial success, the trip was pivotal. Thus, we decided to go and informed his father of the idea and secured corporate investment. Jack, to say the least, was thrilled that his only son was coming home. And when Trey added that I would be joining the expedition as a co-inventor, Dad was on board. But Momma remained silent—but immensely pleased (on the inside, of course).

Reservations were made, and Trey put in extra effort to warrant a week's absence so I concentrated on my voice coach and the gym.

We arrived in Mobile on Monday, going through Atlanta first, and ended up there in the afternoon. There was a quick drive to the plantation, which is now known as one of the mansions at the Mobile Heritage Golf and Country Club. It was placed on a large lot, with a long drive lined with magnolias. Huge white Ionic columns stood in a row at the front and one side, making the first floor porches and second floor balconies. Almost all the windows were French doors. It truly looked like a classic Antebellum planner's home.

We stepped into a wide center hall. The rooms on either side were filled with old antiques and covered in Oriental rugs - signs of old wealth and the South. A servant offered sweet tea over ice, and we were guided upstairs. It came as no surprise that Trey got his old room, and mine was next to it. Both rooms opened onto the exact same shaded balcony. Momma clearly liked to make a statement with her interior design.

We all gathered for pre-dinner cocktails and conversation in the massive "conservatory" that was connected to the back of the house. This large room covered the entire house, with heart-pine floors and comfortable leather furniture. The large window panes let in plenty of sunlight, and you could see a pool just outside. There was a long fairway behind that, which was only partially hidden by banks of azaleas and rhododendrons. The terraces were made of old brick with a huge cooking area that had grills, ice dispensers, and even a pizza oven.

Momma had laid out the rules beforehand - there would be no business discussions in her home. She wanted us to focus on talking about theatre and our time on the New York stage. There were three daughters present, all tall, honey-blonde girls with freckles, athletic poise, and a strong sense of Southern femininity. One of them had a boyfriend, who seemed very nervous about the engagement. He followed her around all night, seemingly intimidated. Daddy had probably already given him a warning about his manners. He was polite, preppy, and in his final year at Alabama. Ellie, her youngest daughter, had a platinum blonde hair color, the true Southern belle of the family.

I expected things to be tense, considering the circumstances and the fact that Momma knew we had arrived at the same time. We were both fairly certain she had figured out the situation, and the fact that we had come from New York together. Momma, however, steered the conversation away from speculations. She inquired about my life in the Big Apple and how I'd started out in the theatre and the world of stardom.

I told her about the circumstances, suggesting we'd both been born in New York. She wanted to know more about our family back in Texas. I explained that our father lived on a ranch, while my older brother was a senior at Texas A&M, a football star. I couldn't answer her questions about our mother, as I didn't know the answer. I told her that me and my brother were close but that he hadn't been to New York. I told her about my journey from being an electrician to lighting Broadway shows.

I had been working as a lighting professional on Broadway for almost a year when the actor who played Jud was hurt in a car accident. "Fate had it all planned for me," I said.

I spent a bit of time explaining to her about the upcoming rehearsals for the prequel to Phantom, which didn't have a name yet. We planned to open in January without any off-Broadway practice shows. A London cast was already being assembled for a simultaneous opening.

She asked where I lived. I told her about the apartment where I stayed in Manhattan. I mentioned Brent and Kirk, the guy she heard playing on the last version of Oklahoma! He's done some TV and is now working on more. "Trey, Brent, Kirk, and I have meals together sometimes."

"How did you meet Trey?"

"It's not very mysterious. I received a call from someone at the BTE, asking me to step in and help out a struggling crew at the Barrymore. And that's when I met Trey." I winked at Trey, subtly passing things on to him.

Trey cut in, "We weren't struggling! The absurd set designers modified the staging concept at the last minute, expecting three technicians to rework everything before the unveiling. They had primitive facilities. It was going to be a huge task. It just wasn't possible. Three individuals cannot achieve what six can - even if one of them is an Alabama native." I observed that with every hour we spent in Mobile, Trey's speech patterns shifted – and his reaction time and conversation pace lengthened. It was endearing. I adored it, and so did another part of me that anticipated what was taking place... or was it approaching?

I decided to poke fun. "It's not quite how I recall it. It appears to me you were running a preschool in the area of basic lighting technology. You college-educated engineers don't have a clue about a volt or watt once you leave the classroom, do you?"

I saw Jack perk up when I equated my practical experience with Trey's college education. I surmised that he didn't hold a degree.

Trey thumped my arm, and prepared to add more, but his Father intervened. "So the two of you have been engaged in similar kinds of work for some time now? Is that how you crossed paths?"

"Yes. On the job, but there was more. It was actually another coincidence. Evie's flat is only two blocks from mine. So Trey and I began utilizing the same gym for our workout sessions. The Sunday after I assisted him, we accidentally crossed paths at the gym. We agreed to support one other that day since we appeared to be employing the same gear and weights. Thus, we became friends. Mainly based on our mutual appreciation of exercise. I exercise almost every day."

Mom chimed in "And apparently a mutual appreciation for muscles." She turned and winked at Trey, but I discerned her intent. Naturally, she had discerned.

Dinner was pleasant and the conversation shifted to the astounding season that the Crimson Tide had recently completed – once again. There was a televised basketball game that night (not the Tide) – one of the final-season college games that would determine championships and invitations to bowl games. So Mom left – yet not Trey's siblings. They were likewise fanatical followers. I watched attentively and managed not to make a total fool of myself. I possessed only basic knowledge of football, but I was an avid track fan. I had no practical football experience and any comments I might make could expose my ignorance. However, the players' backsides and packages – and how they grouped up, as though they desired their buttocks to be penetrated right on the field! This ought to be required viewing for any gay.

Following the game concluded, we organized to spend the following day at the plant and retreated to bed. I observed that the girls' rooms were on one side and the visitor rooms were on the other, with Trey's room. The Maguires had a first-floor suite. Trey headed to his room, but whispered first, "There's no crime to talk about in this vicinity. I never secure my door to the porch. Sometimes, when the weather is favorable, I even sleepwalk out there."

A minute or two later, attired just in a t-shirt and some sleep shorts, I moved to the patio outside my room. It was dark, muggy, and the air was fragranced with the blooms of the Deep South. I took a few paces; then collided with Trey, who was leaning over the railing inhaling the perfumed, damp air. My penis slid comfortably into his naked rear opening. Wow, he was naked and presenting his ass toward me. He whispered, "I didn't believe you were approaching."

I whispered, "Boy, you need to cool it. We're in Mobile. It has merely been a minute." I stroked his cock for a few moments; then retreated and pulled him into me. We embraced and my hands immediately traveled to massage his buttocks. "Wow, this ass is so delightful." Cocks clashed between us, and I suspect our moans and groans enticed others in the still, muggy Alabama night. And I suppose we didn't realize the old cypress boards of the porch and the railing were creaking loud and with regularity, suggesting a rhythmic, rocking stimulation.

Becky and I hadn't realized that Dolly and Jack were enjoying one of their forbidden delights right beneath us. They were lying down on sunbeds, next to each other by the pool, sipping bourbon, their glasses coated with frost and a sprig of mint. If you looked closely, you could see two glowing embers steadily burning. Both had lit up and were enjoying their weekly Cuban cigars. They both, naturally, picked up the sounds above them and just a few feet away. Dolly gave Jack a smile, "It sure looks like those boys really enjoy each other." She then giggled and then put her finger over her mouth, warning Jack to be silent. They stayed tuned in for a few more minutes. Then they heard the French door close.

"What do you want me to do, Mom?"

"It's simple. He's our only son. He's discovered love. He's just following the way the Lord made him. And you're going to create something happy for him. If you adopt Flip, you'll have two sons. If you send Trey away, you won't have any. That's not a tough decision, in my opinion. I've already made up my mind. I can imagine those two handsome young men making love to each other now. Next thing, Daddy. Are you too old to make love?"

"Mom, you're too old for that kind of stuff."

"Just come inside, and I'll demonstrate what I'm still capable of. I can still make you stand up and take notice, honey."

*******

I pushed him back into his room, where a dim light illuminated his golden trophies on the shelves. It was like a museum. First this, second that, first again, MVP, top scorer. Even the "also-here" trophies had been put on display—and kept polished by an adoring family. And they all depicted young, muscular semi-naked athletes (Southerners prefer Neoclassical figures on their trophies)—but none resembled Trey. "Your head must get rather large when you sleep in this room."

"I'm not sure about that. But when you're in this room, my other head salutes you."

I pushed him on the bed, pulling his shorts off as I did so. He was already hard and leaking. His dick bounced off his firm stomach and stood erect—like many of those trophy boys. Fuck, his cock was gorgeous. So long and straight and hard. I was wrong—fuck the trophies; I'd rather have real flesh and blood.

"Tonight's rodeo night, Trey. I'm ready to ride."

I straddled him and started stroking his sides, sliding back to fist and squeeze his bubble butt. He was boiling hot and pulsing, urging for me. I swiped my dick between his broad pecs, loving the friction, and did it again. His head raised and his tongue licked the drops from the tip. Then his legs came up behind me, and I lay back, allowing him to clutch my ankles. My dick hovered between us.

I reached back and lubed, then slowly backed down over his cock. Then I reclined and positioned his cock right against my nuts. He bucked a few times, driving my balls with each thrust. Fuck, that's precisely what I needed. He bucked several times, propelling me deeper with every rise. Then it was my turn. I bent over and started sucking on his nipples, raising myself from him with my thighs. That gave him room to push up. Repeatedly he rose, penetrated, rubbed, bottomed out, and retreated. Then, his hands, which had been holding me tight, moved. Showcasing his incredible strength, he lifted his torso, pulling us into an embrace, seating me completely at his lap, with his cock deep in me. He moved to the edge of the bed and stood. He was using the maximum gravity to penetrate me. I gripped his neck as he bounced and bounced, his strong hands on my buttcheeks, pushing me to ride and ride. Fuck, it was deep. It was hard. And it was filling. My knees came up and pressed into his sides, making me even more free and open. Fuck, he was going deeper. He was approaching the second entrance. Then it opened, and he flooded me with fluid.

"I'm erupting, Flip. Prepare for takeoff." Then I felt him gaining momentum, the launching rocket shooting up from the pad, and the explosion bursting from the capsule. I responded quickly, smearing my semen all over us. He dropped back onto the bed and held me tightly. We pulled up the covers. Moments later, we were both fast asleep. After, our first time in his bed and in his home.

And, as they say, "When you fuck a Southern boy in his own bed in his own house, you've crossed the Rubicon, Caesar. You'd better be prepared to marry him or face his Father's shotgun."

TBC BD *rocket ship emoji*

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