DISCLAIMER

This is a romantic Adult erotic story with fictional characters and plot, targeted at fingernail Fetish readers. If extremely long fingernails and/or toenails gross you out, then you’re in the wrong place.

‘Only business’

by V. Tarransky

Oct 2021

Hard work has its rewards. It’s also true that one has to make some hard choices and sacrifices along the way in order for it to pay off and not be all for nothing.

With the age of 40 approaching and an honestly (I would say) earned fortune, enough to allow me to live in leisure for the rest of my life, I had within my possibilities almost everything I could wish for. Except… someone to share my good (or not) fortune with.

The past few years I became more and more aware of this need to bond and share in my life, however my quirk for super long nails in a woman was a big obstacle to overcome.

I’ve had my share of attempts of starting meaningful relationships only to realize that my oddity was not something I should be advertising. All these attempts ended in either being thought of as a freak and being dumped, or at my own choice to end it when it was becoming obvious that my nail thing was not finding an echo in a prospective life partner.

A turning point in my life was when I discovered the internet which provided me with enough content and allowed me to ‘indulge’ without a partner. That eventually led to ‘lengthening’ the length of nails that would get me off. So work and wealth hoarding became my focus.

But now the time has come to cash in and enjoy living.

By now the long nails of a couple-of-inches, which could only be grown and were considered freakish when I became aware of my soft spot for them, were no longer the privilege of those whom nature endowed with the right genes to sprout them, anyone with that desire could now find a nail tech to provide them with nails of the length and design of their own choice.

Through my business connections I’ve found a… another ‘business’ that provided, shall we say, ‘enhanced and customized escort services’. Needless to say that I have become a loyal customer and the ladies I’ve got to… ‘be escorted by’ became acquainted with my preferences, which got them in return generous tips to “get your nails done, maybe a bit longer next time?”. That, however, did not go overlooked by the… ‘business’ manager who one day approached me with a… ‘business’ proposal. And about two weeks later…

*

I arrived at the hotel I was told and went straight up to the suite to which I was provided the key-card. The hotel was quite low key, but seemed clean and had a subtle classy-ness built into the discreet details of the interior design style.

I entered as I would normally do, expecting the suite would be empty. The door led directly into a generous but rather dimly lit living room.

“Mr. Felix Hammond I presume,” a woman’s voice came from a dark corner of the living. “You are early,” she continued in a steady voice. Strong Russian accent.

I turned towards the voice. She was seated in an armchair but I couldn’t make out any distinguishable features. I was an hour early and she was already here, waiting by the looks of it.

“Dobruy viecher, gospozha…?” I replied with my basic knowledge of Russian language. My experience has taught me that a greeting in the native language of a person goes a long way in making them, at least a little bit, more relaxed. I left the greeting unfinished, expecting she would complete it with her name.

She chuckled and then was silent for a few seconds. I walked slowly towards her. I smelled perfume but not being a connoisseur I was unable to recognize a brand or fragrance.

“Your courtesy is noted” she replied to my greeting. “However.” (…brief pause) “I usually find that my English is better than the Russian of most people I encounter. While I am convinced of my own knowledge of English I cannot make any assumption about your knowledge of Russian. And I like to deal with certainties.”

‘Control freak. At least I know where I stand,’ I thought. I was not going to get her name from her. I would have to at least pretend to acknowledge and respect her position of control of the situation. Then I spoke.

“I like certainties, too. And since we agree, why not… be open about… this?” I gestured around.

She did not reply immediately. In fact she did not reply at all. It was like she ignored what I said.

“You are early,” she resumed. “Why?”

“A legitimate question. Given that I know practically nothing about who I am supposed to meet and the surroundings of where that should happen I thought I’d… have a look before the meeting. Maybe prepare the set a bit and see what I can count on. I see you’ve beat me to it. Which puts me at a disadvantage. Which… I think… is… what you want. Isn’t it?”

“We are not here to discuss or question how this is going to work. It will either work – or it won’t – my way. If this is not to your liking, then you can still turn away now with no consequence, like this has never happened. However.” (…that ‘twist’ cue again) “That would leave room for disillusionment and disappointment. On both parts.”

“Well… There’s not a lot about ‘your way’ that I know. How do you think it’s going to work? You must have something in mind, don’t you? I was more or less just sent here to discuss the… erm… possibility – and opportunity – to provide… some… uh… services to a lady of high standing. …Aaand – of considerable power.”

“Services?” she laughed “Indeed. Though, by what I was told, there would be some degree of… compensation for you, directly from me, as well. Or was I misinformed?”

“I have no idea what you were told, but that could be the start of a conversation. What were you told about me?”

“I ask the questions.”

“Of course” I submitted. “It would be great though if I could ask a few questions of my own at some point. Nothing too complicated. And… maybe if I could see who I am talking to? Before… anything else.”

“We shall see if it comes to that. But. (…that… ‘syncopation’ again) First I need to be certain if what I was told is indeed true. So. (…again, this must be like a tic or something) I was told that you… sexually respond, and quite enthusiastically if my understanding is correct, to a… unusual…”

I tried to not burst into laughter. And then in a very clear and steady voice I said “I have an uncontrollable weakness for women with extremely long nails. I get massively turned on.”

She was silent. I imagined her expression with a combination of outrage and relief. The first because I cut her short, the second because I gave her the confirmation I thought she was expecting.

“I’m sorry, I just tried to save you the trouble of finding your words, even though I may regret it. I can only imagine how frustrating it is to you, to be interrupted.”

She was still silent.

“Uhaditye, protokol vtaroy” she commanded.

Two bodyguards, one male one female, silently appeared out of nowhere. I didn’t even have time to blink before they searched me top to bottom and then hurried to the door. The female bodyguard gave me a hard stare before she finally shut the door behind her.

“What… was that? What is… ‘second protocol?” I managed to ask.

“It means that you will not be able to leave this place alive unless I will explicitly allow you to. I will give you one last chance to turn away. After this you will only stay alive if you… convince me. Otherwise… it would get too complicated.”

This… was not what I signed up for. My instinct told me to leave. I started to walk backward towards the door. After three steps I turned my back to her and reached for the door handle.

“Would you like to see what you’d have missed before you leave?” she asked and before she finished the question I heard some… ‘clicks’. “Think of it as a chance to reconsider.”

I stopped. I didn’t know what to do. Should I trust her? I couldn’t think. On one hand I was scared for my life, on the other, her offer – and those… ‘clicks’ – made me curious. My brain was paralyzed and I couldn’t decide if I should take the chance or not.

I heard her move and get up. More ‘clicks’. A light behind me went on and my heart went up in my throat. I turned around to face her. The light was behind her and I could now see a hooded silhouette standing in front of the armchair where she sat moments before.

“Felix… Can I call you Felix?” A part of the coldness in her voice softened. She didn’t wait for my reply, which was not even in the making in my head. “I’ll show you my nails” she said in a less commanding tone “Consider that I’m returning your courtesy. And then you can leave. If you still want to.”

She slowly came towards me, accompanied by ‘clicks’, her back still towards the light. I was now able to see that she was wearing something that looked like a dark green cape, which covered her to above the knees. Low end of a uni-colored dark red dress and a pair of just-above-the-ankle stylish black boots completed the outfit. The hood kept her face in the dark, I could only make a twinkling in her eyes. She stopped 10 feet away from me. I could now observe that she was not the skinny type.

“Look” she said and slowly raised her hands from under the cape and brought them up for me to see.

I got hard instantly and my open mouth started drooling. I couldn’t move or say anything. Seeing her nails erased everything that was in my mind. She had the longest and most colorful fingernails I had ever seen in my life. She had her hands folded pointing down, because it was impossible for her to raise a finger straight without support.

Flowing downwards from her fingers, straightened probably by their sheer weight, without any significantly deviating curve, only gently twisting here and there, it was obvious her nails had been growing for a very long time. They were covered in strips of all colors imaginable.

“So it’s true” she remarked after a few moments while I was taking in what I saw. I gathered that she probably noticed the prominence at the front of my pants. “Stay. Give me what I need.” Brief pause. “Please” she continued in a soft voice.

From the bitch of a few moments ago this was a complete turnaround in her attitude. Probably with her uncertainty of if I can ‘deliver’ now substantially diminished, she was somewhat loosening her grip on controlling the situation.

Her asking me to stay had made me forget the reality of the situation that I would still have to ‘convince’ in order to leave this place alive. I got closer to her and peered into the eyes under the hood.

“Can I… uh…?” I asked and slowly raised my hands to push back her hood.

I stopped half way waiting for her confirmation so as to let her still feel in control. It felt to me like she had already conceded quite a lot by showing me her nails and asking me to stay, so I was going to let her have the upper hand.

She did not reply immediately. After about half a minute I started wondering if she heard what I asked and if I should ask again or just forget about it.

‘Better safe than sorry’ I thought and lowered my hands back down, giving up.

“Yes. You may.” Soft voice.

‘She is… testing me?’ I realized. I didn’t resume. If this was a test then I’d better try and guess what she is testing me for. Patience? Obviously. Submission? Very likely. Obedience? Most definitely. So this was ‘her way’.

“Would you want me to?” I asked.

“- Miss” she completed my question.

‘Riiight… Wait. «Miss?»… That’s… interesting.’

“Would you want me to – Miss?”

I could feel her smiling.

“Yes, please.”

‘«Please?»… Wow…’

“Erm… now? …Miss? Or later?” I jabbed a bit into her need for control, exaggerating my submissiveness.

“Don’t make fun of me” she replied promptly and I felt a touch of frost return.

“Sorry. I’m usually a funny guy, I can’t help it. Just tell me whenever you think I’ll cross the line.”

“You’re here, practically with a gun to your head, and you think that… this… is a joke?”

“No, actually, joking is one of my reactions to stress and pressure. Would you rather I panic and freeze? …Miss? I’d probably be dead already if I did.”

“You are funny,” she conceded after a moment then raised her hands and slowly – and clicking-ly – pushed her hood back. I saw a faint smile.

Clearly not the blue-eyed blonde of the arctic fox type. Brown eyes, dark-brown hair that seemed to be kept up with hair pins at the back, round plump face, little to no makeup. Looked like mid to late 30s, but given the length of her nails I figured she probably looked younger than her real age. Those nails would normally take at least 30 years to grow. Hard to imagine she hasn’t cut her nails since primary school. That was a mystery that would probably reveal itself as the events would unfold.

“Well?” She woke me up from my ‘analysis’.

“Erm… uh… Right. Would you… like… to… uh… have a drink?” I stumbled for something to say. “…Miss?”

“Not really, no. I would much rather we get to business. But you may have one… or a few… if you really think you need some in order to… perform.”

“It would not be polite of me if I did have a drink and the lady didn’t. A coffee maybe?” She was looking at me, subtle amusement on her face at my attempts to be courteous. She did not reply. ‘Of course.’ “…Miss?”

“Yes, some coffee will do” she accepted. “No cream, no sugar, a hint of cinnamon, please”.

‘Maybe she IS a control-freak-hard-bitch. But a VERY well mannered one’ I thought. I called the front desk and ordered room service. Brief silence. She was waiting, looking at me.

“Can I… get your coat?” I finally realized that she probably has help with a lot of things, and this time I was going to be the one to provide it.

“…Took you a while…” she acknowledged with a hint of discontent.

“I’m sorry. You are the first lady to have fingernails so long that I finally get to meet in person. I have yet to learn about all the… impediments in such a lifestyle… and maybe… to be taught how to be accommodating. Would you… teach me? …Miss?”.

“Your enthusiasm is noted” she replied with a more open smile.

I helped her with the cape which turned out to be basically a hooded poncho, cut open to the front, with two golden broche-like hooks at the collarbone to keep it closed, obviously making super long nail management easier. That revealed a sleeveless dark red dress with thin straps over her shoulders and her curvy features. And her magnificent manicure. She was not what I would call fat, but it was pretty clear that exercising was not one of her priorities, probably because her nails rated higher on that list.

Then the coffee arrived. She sat down on the sofa next to the coffee table where the tray was placed by one of the bodyguards. She rested her hands in her lap with nails spread to her left side.

Immediately I got to serve her the coffee. I presumed that cinnamon was in the small grinder on the tray. I took it and turned once above her cup, then I looked at her. She nodded and pursed her lips indicating to me that it was enough.

“Would you like me to hold it for you, Miss?”

“Just enough so I can get a hold of it myself, if you would.”

I held the cup while she maneuvered to take it from my hands. Her nails were just shy of touching the floor. Any longer and she’d probably have had to stand to drink from the cup. She gestured with her chin to me and waited for me to put cream and sugar into my coffee and pick it up. She then leaned forward and brought the cup with both hands to her lips, sipped and then held it in front of her, while I sipped from mine. I set mine down and reached to get her cup and place it on the table. She resumed her position with nails folded to her left along the sofa. I sat back down in the coffee chair across from her.

“I would like to… say something if I may. May I? …Miss?” I asked.

“Go ahead. I’m listening.”

“I think it would be helpful for our meeting if we made things easier for one another. Don’t you agree? I mean… I think I would really hate it if I disappointed you. That is if I will still be alive to realize I did.”

I waited for her acknowledgement.

“Go on” she said with a smile that had a hint of superiority in it.

“I don’t know about you, but I find it odd that we would share some rather… personal matters without getting to know each other. I would really like to know a little bit about you, if getting to know you is not possible.”

I stopped and looked at her, waiting for a remark about what I just said. I was aware that this time I did not speak from the submissive position. I was negociatiating.

“That depends on what you want to know.”

‘This is progress!…’ I thought.

“Oh, I want to know everything that you are willing to let me know, but I’ll start with what I don’t need to know. I don’t need to know your real identity and what line of work you are in. You are obviously at the top of the food chain, so to speak, and work is being done for you rather than waiting to be done by you. Also neither where you’re from, nor your history are of the essence, unless you’re willing to share any of it in as vague details as you want. Though I would Love to know the story behind your incredible nails and why you need my… erm… abilities and not anybody else’s.”

I stopped and waited. She was pondering the implications. After a minute of looking straight at me, during which time I noticed into her gaze a host of subtle emotions ranging from fierceness to despair, she finally looked down, then back at me, and then spoke.

“First I will try to clarify your dilemma.”

She paused. She was preparing a speech. A moment of truth from her part. Better not interrupt this time.

“So. Being intimate with a man is… how do you say it… ‘on my bucket list’. So far there have been none that were able to get past my… appearance. Or personality. Or both.”

‘Well… That explains the «Miss»’ I thought.

“At some point I’ve started using a… a… an artificial penis. Quite an advanced device, with a lot of… features. When combined with pornography… it… was… nice. But it got… dull. And more and more difficult” she gestured with her hands hinting at her nails. “And eventually… dry.”

She stopped. I didn’t know if I should intervene or not, but before I could make up my mind she continued.

“But. Due to your abilities, as you’ve put it, I feel like you’re-… no. Not you. Me. I am standing a better chance. When certainty is not guaranteed then I would do what I can to play a bit with the odds. Hence, you are here.” She paused again and then continued a little softer. “We are here,” she added. “If you can’t make it feel for me… how it is supposed to feel, then probably no one will.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“I have a deadline,” she added.

‘Huh?… «Deadline?»… Wait a minute…’

“Oh…? This… deadline is imposed… by…?” I left the question unfinished for her to complete.

“…Mother nature. Hand in hand with my doctor. An otherwise routine checkup revealed some… things. It’s still early stages and I feel like… nothing’s… wrong. No pain or discomfort. If I didn’t know any better I could say there’s absolutely nothing wrong with me.”

“Ah…” I uttered and paused. “This is… most enlightening” I said after I regained my speech. “The prospect of being-…”

“…of being hanged in a fortnight focuses the mind wonderfully” she took over my quote and finished it, smiling at me, with confirmation that she knew where I was going with it. “However. My situation is not that desperate. Just enough so that once the deadline elapses, this chapter would be closed to me. For good.”