palace_jon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
palace_jon) wrote2005-07-30 09:48 pm
palace_jon) wrote2005-07-30 09:48 pm
Entry tags:
Forward Planning. [Jon/Michael/Stephen]
Michael glanced at the clock and took one last look around the office. It was actually clear of clutter for once, the imminent arrival of someone from outside of Palace making it worthwhile to bring in the flamethrower and polish the place up. Hugh had brought up some sandwiches and such, and knew to show Jon and Mr. Dorff in as soon as they arrived. Which should be any minute now. He nodded to himself and grabbed the folder with his carnival notes, and sat down on the sofa to wait.
Jon smiled at Hugh and exchanged brief greetings before he opened Michael's door and wheeled his little trolley inside, a bright smile on his face. "Hey!" he greeted amiably. "I'm here and not late, I think." Parking the trolley containing all his notes, folders and every possible piece of information he might possibly need about the upcoming carnival next to a chair, he sat down and wiped his brow. "Warm out there." he commented.
"Is it? I haven't been outside yet today." Michael moved over to help Jon unload his little cart.
"I see you found some transport - Billy come through for you?"
"He most certainly did." Jon handed Michael the folders he thought they'd need, which he'd laid on top of the topmost basket and waved him back when he returned to see if there was anything else. "I've got it." he smiled. "Just my notes now. Is the person here yet? No, of course not."
Michael gave him a teasing grin and shook his head. "No. I'd thought of hiding him behind the sofa if he arrived first, so he could jump out and shout 'Boo!' when you arrived, but you got here first so I hadn't the chance. I'm sure Mr. Dorff will be here shortly, though."
"Mr. Dorff. Right." Jon muttered, making a mental note. He shuffled through his papers while they waited, content to let the silence stretch.
Stephen checked his watch as he strode down the hallway, cursing slightly under his breath and shifting his briefcase into other hand, pausing to fix his tie before walking into the outer office and being shown to the door by Hugh. "Afternoon, gentlemen, I'm Stephen Dorff," he said, smiling as he walked over and shook Michael's hand. "You must be Michael," he said, nodding politely before crossing to shake Jon's hand, "which would make you Jon, of course," he finished, smiling warmly at Jon.
Jon had expected, if anything, someone older, not this handsome, dynamic man with obvious youth and charm on his side. He felt his face flush and he ducked his head a little, acknowledging the greeting with a shy 'Hello' that was rare for him.
Stephen gave Jon a closer look, since he was looking down anyway. Damn, he’s pretty. And he’s got amazing lips... he colours up beautifully too... Stephen gave himself a bit of a mental shake, warning himself not to stare as he turned back to Michael and slipping his coat off. "Sorry I'm late_ the heat is just slowing everything down."
"Not a problem," Michael said. He took Mr. Dorff's coat when he handed it over, and hung it on the rack beside the door and indicated that he should take a seat. "A few minutes hardly counts. Would you like something to drink?"
"Yes, please. Glass of water, and a scotch, if you've got it," Stephen said, deciding to sit down next to Jon and sighing in relief at getting rid of his jacket. "All right_ so I'm here to figure out what you need, and how we can help. Who has the notes on what marketing has been done so far?" Stephen said, getting right down to it.
"Umm, the notes are on the table. The ones that I, err, thought relevant, that is." Jon shifted a little in his seat, intimidated by Mr. Dorff's professionalism and his proximity, and trying not to show it. He gave Michael a helpless glance but the other man had his back turned. "Michael knows more about this kind of thing than I do, I'm afraid." Jon said quietly. "About organizing, I mean. I'm supposed to be in charge but . . ." he waved his hands in the air and then fell into a miserable silence.
Stephen reached over Jon, scooping up the file folders, having to lay almost in his lap to do it, grinning and patting his leg as he came back to his own chair. "Sorry about that, I probably could have asked you to pass those," he said casually, opening the files and scanning the pages quickly, watching out of the corner of his eye to see what Jon’s reaction would be.
"And these look great as a starting point. That's what I'm here for anyway, to figure out where you've started out, and what needs to be augmented. The donation from my wing was basically, well, me," Stephen said with a laugh. "They've taken me off my regular projects to co_ordinate things from our end and help you, while still paying me my regular salary. Of course, I'm turning that around and donating the money they're paying me while I'm on this, but we won't tell them that," Stephen winked at Jon.
"That's very generous of you," Michael said as he set Mr. Dorff's drink down on the table beside him. He settled into the chair across the coffee table and picked up his notepad. "And I'm sure you'll be a great help. I don't believe Jon's done any events of this size before, and I've never been involved with the marketing end at all."
Only by the implementing of the sternest self_control he could muster did Jon not jump or, worse still, shriek when Mr. Dorff reached across him for the folders. He dug his fingers into the couch cushions and held on tight, his head bowed and his eyes squeezed tight shut while he nodded as if he were truly listening to the discussion and trying frantically to compose himself. But there was a warm, firm, muscled thigh pressed against his own and the scent of an expensive cologne tingling in his nostrils, the calmly confident voice of the man sitting by his side, sending thrills down his spine. He could easily imagine that voice giving orders, telling him to do thing . . . Jon gave himself a mental shake and vowed to pay attention to what was being said, not indulge in idle fantasy!
Well, that got a bit of a reaction, Stephen mused, trying not to watch Jon too obviously. Question is, was it a good reaction or bad? "It's nothing, really," Stephen brushed it off, grinning at Michael and sighing contentedly after taking a sip of his drink. "It's fun, and it's worthwhile. Now_ all this looks good... but what I'm seeing here is a bit of a lack of attention to the adult area of the carnival. The family stuff is what's going to get the newspaper attention, and it's what's going to help get us the press we need, but what's going to bring in the real money is the events over on the adult side of the fence."
Michael nodded. "Yes, that makes sense. So we need to get that end organized enough to be able to advertise specific attractions, then? Or do you mean more of a general, 'We Have Adult Attractions" ad? I suppose I just assumed people would, well, assume that we did, this being Palace after all."
"No, I'm talking specifically. And I'm also curious about just what attractions you've got, because that's what's going to bring in most people who have money. Are there actual client bookings taking place outside? Is the East Wing getting involved at all_ if they are, is there perhaps a booth from one of the local BDSM shops? I'm thinking of ways that we can make this not just a Palace event, but something that is across Balize_ that we can have people in local shops recommending and such, donating their time. Do you follow?" Stephen turned to look at Jon.
Jon kept his head down and his knees up, a writing pad on his lap on which he scribbled, mostly nonsense, but it made him feel better. He understood none of this, to him, a carnival was simple. You had one, people came and money was gathered for a good cause. Marketing and specifics and attractions et cetera were a foreign language. When Mr. Dorff addressed him directly, he nearly jumped out of his skin and so his response was scattered and he stammered a lot. "I . . . err . . . umm . . ." East? He was talking about . . . Oh goodness. Jon felt his face color even more. " Yes? I mean, I'm taking notes." He stabbed his pad with the pen to illustrate.
Stephen hid a sigh Jon jumped. He works at Palace and he gets this jumpy just talking about a few East themed activities for the Carnival, no way he’d be interested in anything past pure vanilla. He turned back to Michael. "Let me give you an example of what I was thinking. One of the libertines I see is good friends with a lady who works in a piercing and tattoo parlor. Now, if we could her and a friend or two into donating their time away from the shop, we could potentially run a booth at the fair, and publicize the booth, both in whatever marketing we do, and there at the shop. You'd get a degree of walk-in, plus, some people who'd been potentially planning to get pierced or inked but been putting it off might decide that since it's a good cause, now's the time."
"That's an excellent idea," Michael agreed with a nod, scribbling notes to himself. "I wouldn't have thought of that, but yes, I can see how it'd work. If we could get a mailing out to related businesses in the city, we could likely attract quite a few of them. How would that work __ would we be asking them to work for free with all proceeds going to the fund, or donate a percentage...?"
"Well, it depends on what the business can handle, I suppose. If they were donating the time away from the shop, there's always the possibility that you could find a larger company, my company, for example, to match their sales. They take home what they make, and the sponsor company donates an equivalent amount of money to the fund," Stephen said, turning to face Michael completely, since it was much easier to keep his mind on work when he wasn’t being distracted by something- someone he couldn’t have. "The same for any of the sex toy or apparel shops who might be wanting to be involved_ they lend enough people to run the booth, pay their salaries while they're there, and any inventory they sell is cost-matched. It's good business for them as well that way.
There's probably all sorts of people who'd like to be involved, but don't think there's a point because what they'd be able to afford or donate in and of itself isn't worth much. But you market it the right way, and all of a sudden, you've got dollars and cents coming out, well, you get the idea," Stephen said with a wink.
"I should . . . I, umm, well. I have another appointment." Jon stumbled over his excuses. He'd done something wrong, he just knew it. Mr. Dorff had smiled at him so nicely before and he was just such a gorgeous man, strong and virile-looking and . . . commanding. But obviously he, Jon, had done something and now he wasn't interested anymore and was more comfortable talking with Michael. Jon felt so . . . useless.
He jumped to his feet, almost losing hold of his writing pad and making a last minute grab for it. He smiled apologetically at both men. "Michael is taking notes and so . . ." He shrugged and bent down to put the pad in his trolley, almost banging his head on Mr. Dorff's knee in the process. When he straightened up, he offered his hand. "Nice to have met you, Mr. Dorff." he said politely, trying to subtly pull the trolley wheel free from the edge of the carpet. The trolley came free with a jerk and ran over the man's foot.
Michael blinked at Jon, then jumped up to get the door for him. "I'll, umm, forward you a copy of my notes, then."
Stephen couldn't hold back a yelp as the trolley ran over his foot, gritting his teeth and trying to hold back the stream of cursing that really, really wanted to let loose. "You too," he managed, nodding at Jon, doing his best to ignore his foot until the other man left the room.
"Please. Yes. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Jon fled through the open door, his face flaming and disgusted with himself.
"Umm, well, anyway." Michael sat down once more and mentally grasped for the train of their conversation while wondering what had gotten into Jon. "And that'd let some of the big companies that don't do anything specifically relevant contribute as well, by sponsoring the smaller companies involved in the sex trade and related areas. We could hit up some of the big manufacturers, communications, transportation, that sort of thing, and pair them up with other companies. Maybe more than one, depending on participation and how much business each smaller company anticipates doing?"
"See, now you're speaking my language," Stephen teased, giving his foot one last rub and letting it drop back to rest on the floor, wondering briefly what it was the other man could have had to rush off like that. He nodded along while Michael spoke for a moment, running over the brief meeting in his head. Just forget about him. Either it was you, it was the topic, or he really did have another appointment. Best just leave it lie. "Right, so we need to coordinate approaching the industrial companies for sponsorship..."
Jon smiled at Hugh and exchanged brief greetings before he opened Michael's door and wheeled his little trolley inside, a bright smile on his face. "Hey!" he greeted amiably. "I'm here and not late, I think." Parking the trolley containing all his notes, folders and every possible piece of information he might possibly need about the upcoming carnival next to a chair, he sat down and wiped his brow. "Warm out there." he commented.
"Is it? I haven't been outside yet today." Michael moved over to help Jon unload his little cart.
"I see you found some transport - Billy come through for you?"
"He most certainly did." Jon handed Michael the folders he thought they'd need, which he'd laid on top of the topmost basket and waved him back when he returned to see if there was anything else. "I've got it." he smiled. "Just my notes now. Is the person here yet? No, of course not."
Michael gave him a teasing grin and shook his head. "No. I'd thought of hiding him behind the sofa if he arrived first, so he could jump out and shout 'Boo!' when you arrived, but you got here first so I hadn't the chance. I'm sure Mr. Dorff will be here shortly, though."
"Mr. Dorff. Right." Jon muttered, making a mental note. He shuffled through his papers while they waited, content to let the silence stretch.
Stephen checked his watch as he strode down the hallway, cursing slightly under his breath and shifting his briefcase into other hand, pausing to fix his tie before walking into the outer office and being shown to the door by Hugh. "Afternoon, gentlemen, I'm Stephen Dorff," he said, smiling as he walked over and shook Michael's hand. "You must be Michael," he said, nodding politely before crossing to shake Jon's hand, "which would make you Jon, of course," he finished, smiling warmly at Jon.
Jon had expected, if anything, someone older, not this handsome, dynamic man with obvious youth and charm on his side. He felt his face flush and he ducked his head a little, acknowledging the greeting with a shy 'Hello' that was rare for him.
Stephen gave Jon a closer look, since he was looking down anyway. Damn, he’s pretty. And he’s got amazing lips... he colours up beautifully too... Stephen gave himself a bit of a mental shake, warning himself not to stare as he turned back to Michael and slipping his coat off. "Sorry I'm late_ the heat is just slowing everything down."
"Not a problem," Michael said. He took Mr. Dorff's coat when he handed it over, and hung it on the rack beside the door and indicated that he should take a seat. "A few minutes hardly counts. Would you like something to drink?"
"Yes, please. Glass of water, and a scotch, if you've got it," Stephen said, deciding to sit down next to Jon and sighing in relief at getting rid of his jacket. "All right_ so I'm here to figure out what you need, and how we can help. Who has the notes on what marketing has been done so far?" Stephen said, getting right down to it.
"Umm, the notes are on the table. The ones that I, err, thought relevant, that is." Jon shifted a little in his seat, intimidated by Mr. Dorff's professionalism and his proximity, and trying not to show it. He gave Michael a helpless glance but the other man had his back turned. "Michael knows more about this kind of thing than I do, I'm afraid." Jon said quietly. "About organizing, I mean. I'm supposed to be in charge but . . ." he waved his hands in the air and then fell into a miserable silence.
Stephen reached over Jon, scooping up the file folders, having to lay almost in his lap to do it, grinning and patting his leg as he came back to his own chair. "Sorry about that, I probably could have asked you to pass those," he said casually, opening the files and scanning the pages quickly, watching out of the corner of his eye to see what Jon’s reaction would be.
"And these look great as a starting point. That's what I'm here for anyway, to figure out where you've started out, and what needs to be augmented. The donation from my wing was basically, well, me," Stephen said with a laugh. "They've taken me off my regular projects to co_ordinate things from our end and help you, while still paying me my regular salary. Of course, I'm turning that around and donating the money they're paying me while I'm on this, but we won't tell them that," Stephen winked at Jon.
"That's very generous of you," Michael said as he set Mr. Dorff's drink down on the table beside him. He settled into the chair across the coffee table and picked up his notepad. "And I'm sure you'll be a great help. I don't believe Jon's done any events of this size before, and I've never been involved with the marketing end at all."
Only by the implementing of the sternest self_control he could muster did Jon not jump or, worse still, shriek when Mr. Dorff reached across him for the folders. He dug his fingers into the couch cushions and held on tight, his head bowed and his eyes squeezed tight shut while he nodded as if he were truly listening to the discussion and trying frantically to compose himself. But there was a warm, firm, muscled thigh pressed against his own and the scent of an expensive cologne tingling in his nostrils, the calmly confident voice of the man sitting by his side, sending thrills down his spine. He could easily imagine that voice giving orders, telling him to do thing . . . Jon gave himself a mental shake and vowed to pay attention to what was being said, not indulge in idle fantasy!
Well, that got a bit of a reaction, Stephen mused, trying not to watch Jon too obviously. Question is, was it a good reaction or bad? "It's nothing, really," Stephen brushed it off, grinning at Michael and sighing contentedly after taking a sip of his drink. "It's fun, and it's worthwhile. Now_ all this looks good... but what I'm seeing here is a bit of a lack of attention to the adult area of the carnival. The family stuff is what's going to get the newspaper attention, and it's what's going to help get us the press we need, but what's going to bring in the real money is the events over on the adult side of the fence."
Michael nodded. "Yes, that makes sense. So we need to get that end organized enough to be able to advertise specific attractions, then? Or do you mean more of a general, 'We Have Adult Attractions" ad? I suppose I just assumed people would, well, assume that we did, this being Palace after all."
"No, I'm talking specifically. And I'm also curious about just what attractions you've got, because that's what's going to bring in most people who have money. Are there actual client bookings taking place outside? Is the East Wing getting involved at all_ if they are, is there perhaps a booth from one of the local BDSM shops? I'm thinking of ways that we can make this not just a Palace event, but something that is across Balize_ that we can have people in local shops recommending and such, donating their time. Do you follow?" Stephen turned to look at Jon.
Jon kept his head down and his knees up, a writing pad on his lap on which he scribbled, mostly nonsense, but it made him feel better. He understood none of this, to him, a carnival was simple. You had one, people came and money was gathered for a good cause. Marketing and specifics and attractions et cetera were a foreign language. When Mr. Dorff addressed him directly, he nearly jumped out of his skin and so his response was scattered and he stammered a lot. "I . . . err . . . umm . . ." East? He was talking about . . . Oh goodness. Jon felt his face color even more. " Yes? I mean, I'm taking notes." He stabbed his pad with the pen to illustrate.
Stephen hid a sigh Jon jumped. He works at Palace and he gets this jumpy just talking about a few East themed activities for the Carnival, no way he’d be interested in anything past pure vanilla. He turned back to Michael. "Let me give you an example of what I was thinking. One of the libertines I see is good friends with a lady who works in a piercing and tattoo parlor. Now, if we could her and a friend or two into donating their time away from the shop, we could potentially run a booth at the fair, and publicize the booth, both in whatever marketing we do, and there at the shop. You'd get a degree of walk-in, plus, some people who'd been potentially planning to get pierced or inked but been putting it off might decide that since it's a good cause, now's the time."
"That's an excellent idea," Michael agreed with a nod, scribbling notes to himself. "I wouldn't have thought of that, but yes, I can see how it'd work. If we could get a mailing out to related businesses in the city, we could likely attract quite a few of them. How would that work __ would we be asking them to work for free with all proceeds going to the fund, or donate a percentage...?"
"Well, it depends on what the business can handle, I suppose. If they were donating the time away from the shop, there's always the possibility that you could find a larger company, my company, for example, to match their sales. They take home what they make, and the sponsor company donates an equivalent amount of money to the fund," Stephen said, turning to face Michael completely, since it was much easier to keep his mind on work when he wasn’t being distracted by something- someone he couldn’t have. "The same for any of the sex toy or apparel shops who might be wanting to be involved_ they lend enough people to run the booth, pay their salaries while they're there, and any inventory they sell is cost-matched. It's good business for them as well that way.
There's probably all sorts of people who'd like to be involved, but don't think there's a point because what they'd be able to afford or donate in and of itself isn't worth much. But you market it the right way, and all of a sudden, you've got dollars and cents coming out, well, you get the idea," Stephen said with a wink.
"I should . . . I, umm, well. I have another appointment." Jon stumbled over his excuses. He'd done something wrong, he just knew it. Mr. Dorff had smiled at him so nicely before and he was just such a gorgeous man, strong and virile-looking and . . . commanding. But obviously he, Jon, had done something and now he wasn't interested anymore and was more comfortable talking with Michael. Jon felt so . . . useless.
He jumped to his feet, almost losing hold of his writing pad and making a last minute grab for it. He smiled apologetically at both men. "Michael is taking notes and so . . ." He shrugged and bent down to put the pad in his trolley, almost banging his head on Mr. Dorff's knee in the process. When he straightened up, he offered his hand. "Nice to have met you, Mr. Dorff." he said politely, trying to subtly pull the trolley wheel free from the edge of the carpet. The trolley came free with a jerk and ran over the man's foot.
Michael blinked at Jon, then jumped up to get the door for him. "I'll, umm, forward you a copy of my notes, then."
Stephen couldn't hold back a yelp as the trolley ran over his foot, gritting his teeth and trying to hold back the stream of cursing that really, really wanted to let loose. "You too," he managed, nodding at Jon, doing his best to ignore his foot until the other man left the room.
"Please. Yes. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Jon fled through the open door, his face flaming and disgusted with himself.
"Umm, well, anyway." Michael sat down once more and mentally grasped for the train of their conversation while wondering what had gotten into Jon. "And that'd let some of the big companies that don't do anything specifically relevant contribute as well, by sponsoring the smaller companies involved in the sex trade and related areas. We could hit up some of the big manufacturers, communications, transportation, that sort of thing, and pair them up with other companies. Maybe more than one, depending on participation and how much business each smaller company anticipates doing?"
"See, now you're speaking my language," Stephen teased, giving his foot one last rub and letting it drop back to rest on the floor, wondering briefly what it was the other man could have had to rush off like that. He nodded along while Michael spoke for a moment, running over the brief meeting in his head. Just forget about him. Either it was you, it was the topic, or he really did have another appointment. Best just leave it lie. "Right, so we need to coordinate approaching the industrial companies for sponsorship..."