Page 26 of Daddy Down Under

The conversation flowed, my questions growing more pointed. I was impressed by their responses, but we weren’t done yet.

Then Garrett cleared his throat, his enthusiasm faltering slightly. “There is one area where we’re facing challenges.”

“Wavey,” James said, his tone more serious now. “It’s our brand for everything a serious surfer could need, from wet suits, boardies, and booties to surfboards and wax.”

I leaned back. “Ah yes, I noticed the numbers weren’t quite as robust there. What’s the issue?”

Garrett sighed. “I got into it because my twin boys were into surfing. When they were past the beginner stage and needed better boards, I was shocked at the prices and decided to see if I could make them myself. That got the ball rolling and everything developed from there. But it’s always been a bit of a side project for me, a hobby that got out of hand.”

“We have a hard time with the marketing,” James explained. “We’ve tried various approaches, but none have worked so far.”

He launched into an explanation about market saturation and fierce competition, but my attention drifted to Ocean. His posture had changed, a subtle tension in his shoulders. I could almost see the wheels turning in his mind. No wonder, as a surfer, this was right up his alley.

“Have you considered selling or liquidating that segment?” I asked casually, more to gauge their reaction than anything else.

The executives exchanged glances, clearly caught off guard. “We hadn’t seriously considered it,” James admitted.

I nodded, about to press further, when I felt a gentle nudge against my arm and glanced down to see Ocean sliding a folded piece of paper toward me. My eyebrows shot up in surprise as I discreetly unfolded it under the table.

In Ocean’s flowing script, the note read:May I offer my thoughts?

His eyes met mine, a silent question in their depths. I hesitated, torn between my instinct to maintain control and my growing curiosity about what insights he might offer.

“Actually,” I heard myself say, “my assistant might have some thoughts on the matter. He’s an avid surfer, so I’d love to hear his opinion.”

“So would I,” Garrett said, his face showing curiosity.

As all eyes turned to Ocean, I held my breath, hoping I hadn’t made a colossal mistake.

Ocean leaned forward. “The pricing strategy is wrong. I’ve been a surfer since I was a teenager, and I can tell you that serious surfers—the ones who live and breathe the ocean—are used to paying premium prices for high-quality gear. They want stuff that can handle the gnarliest conditions and they’re willing to pay for that. Wavey is too cheap to be considered a premium brand but too expensive for beginners.”

James leaned back, tapping his pen against his lips. “You’re saying we need to reposition the brand.”

“I’ve used Wavey boards, and they’re amazing, but I would’ve never tried them because of the price. For that amount, I wouldn’t have expected the kind of quality I demand. I only tested them because one of my boards broke and I borrowed a Wavey board from a friend. I loved it from the get-go. But I’m your target customer, and I’m telling you that you need to raise your prices. You have to decide whether you want to be premium and appeal to the pros or if you want to be affordable and cater to the serious beginners.”

I watched in amazement as Ocean effortlessly commanded the room’s attention, his passion for the subject evident in every word.

“You’re saying there’s nothing wrong with the boards themselves?” Garrett asked.

Ocean shrugged. “I don’t think you need the flashy designs of the latest models. I would focus on durability and performance. Partner with local surf shops, sponsor up-and-coming surfers. Make Wavey the brand for pros, one that understands the soul of surfing, not just its image.”

As Ocean continued to elaborate, pride filled me. Ocean should’ve been out of his element in a board room, but here he was, effortlessly navigating the choppy waters of a business discussion he had no experience in. I couldn’t deny the brilliance of his insights or the way the Krause executives hung on his every word.

It was hot.

Never in my entire life had I been aroused by intelligence or competence, but my cock was definitely hardening now, watching him. Then again, that could also be because my brain was helpfully supplying memories of me sucking his cock, of him fucking my mouth. I shifted in my seat. Ocean’s confidence, his easy charm, the way he so effortlessly bossed me around—it was all combining into a heady mix that threatened to overwhelm me.

Of course, my timing was bad, to say the least. My suit was tailor-made for me and left no room to hide a hard-on. How the hell was I going to get up without showing everyone how turned on I was?

“That’s quite the remarkable insight, Palmer,” Garrett said, leaning back in his chair with a pensive look. “I must say, we hadn’t considered that angle before. Your firsthand experience brings a fresh perspective to the table.”

I nodded, glad I could focus on something else. “I agree, and it definitely offers possibilities to transform Wavey into a profitable brand. I have enough information for now, but I’d like to come back tomorrow and go through your accounting in more detail.”

“Absolutely,” James said. “I won’t be here as my wife is unfortunately having surgery, but Mitchell, my right-hand man, will be available to go over everything with you and answer any questions you might have.”

“Sounds good. And good luck to your wife on the surgery.”

For a moment, James’s professional mask fell and he showed vulnerability. “Thank you. She had breast cancer that returned, so hopefully, they will get it all this time.”

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