I Ain't Got No Body
Aug. 21st, 2025 06:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rayaso Wheel of Chaos 2025
Week 7
Prompt: Intersection/Oxytocin Loops
This story is structured around excerpts from the weirdly humorous song “Just A Gigolo” by Louis Primo (1956), with some minor changes for the sake of the story. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kkrb4h4weW4
New York looked dim enveloped in fog. It made Tony Romano think of one of his favorite cities. In San Francisco, the fog was part of the City’s charm, the way it hugged the hills, with the tips of the Golden Gate Bridge peeking through. Unfortunately, he was in New York and fog was just fog. Even worse, this fog was personal.
In his heyday, Tony Romano was well-known in certain circles, but those circles had collapsed. Once, women wanted him and men wanted to be him, except for husbands and boyfriends, who feared and hated him. But all his good looks and charm had come at a price, and now he was paying it.
“I wish I could be 17 again,” Tony said to no one as he walked down the street toward Romano’s, his uncle’s restaurant in Brooklyn. It was known for its authentic Italian food and live music, and it attracted women of a certain age. Tony was once catnip to women of all ages and he was feeling lonely, but tonight he had a personal meeting of a different kind.
I'm just a gigoloAnd everywhere I go
People know the part I'm playin'
It all started when he took a job as a pool boy at the Wexford Country Club. He was just 17 and he was intimidated by all the rich people and especially their gorgeous daughters. He was from Little Italy and invisible to the members. He spent his shift handing out towels, fetching drinks, and doing whatever members wanted.
Then one day, he had to fill in as a lifeguard at the swimming pool. Lifeguards wore small red Speedos and nothing more, although he did get a whistle on a lanyard. With his good looks, lean, muscular body, and dark wavy hair, he quickly became popular and soon he was hired full-time to sit in the lifeguard’s chair and watch the children while the women watched him.
The Club was known for its young, attractive second wives and trophy girlfriends. They had a lot in common besides their beauty – they were bored. Being the toy of a wealthy, older, and not-so-attractive man was part of the job, but it was still lonely and dull.
Pay for every dance
Sellin' each romance
Oh, what they sayin'?
It started when Aisha M. began to flirt with him while he was in the lifeguard’s chair. She enjoyed seeing his embarrassment as he casually tried to hide the inevitable reaction. Then one day, Aisha asked him for a drink after he got off work. The fact that he was underage just made it that much more enticing for her. The end was predictable and satisfying for both of them.
The next day, Aisha gave Tony one of her husband’s expensive watches.
“He has so many he’ll never miss this one,” she told him.
Word quickly spread among the pool women and Tony became very popular after Aisha told her friends about their trysts.
“I’m not a hooker,” he told himself. “I’ve don’t take any money.”
Expensive gifts, however, were a different matter and they were gratefully given and received.
Tony gave no thought to the consequences of going from an invisible pool boy to a very popular gigolo -- he didn’t even know the word, even though he was a natural.
One day, the members of the Tony Club, as they called themselves, were having lunch and comparing experiences. Kiara T. had an idea which managed to make even her blush.
“Why don’t we make Tony our boy toy?” Kiara said. “Let’s set him up in an apartment so he can be available all the time.”
All the women agreed, and before he knew it, Tony lived in a nice apartment and all he did was entertain gorgeous women. It was every 17-year-old boy’s dream.
It got even better and went the way of all things gigolo. Yasmin P. gave him a Jaguar convertible and others bought him stylish clothes; after all, they couldn’t be seen in the company of someone who bought his clothes at a mall and drove a used car. Tony quickly lost his Brooklyn accent. He was shown at the best restaurants, improved his manners, and learned where to go for all the nice things in life. He accompanied women on trips to exotic resorts.
This arrangement went on for years. The women changed but the new ones were even more generous. Tony provided much more than physical pleasure. He was a great listener and he truly cared for the Club. Many times, there was no sex, just a quiet evening of talk and cuddling.
But it finally reached a point where Tony was getting older. When he turned 30, the demand for his services decreased, and the gifts became less expensive and less frequent. Talk started about finding a younger Tony.
One night when he was alone yet again and having a drink by the fireplace, he thought, “I need a new business plan.”
Over the next few days, he decided to offer himself to older rich women who would appreciate his sophistication. This lasted for quite a while, but the end was in sight. He reached his forties with a very specialized skill set that made it hard to find a conventional job, so he remained a gigolo, although he heard the whispers that he was just an aging Lothario.
It was on his fiftieth birthday that Tony’s fog started.
There'll come a day
And youth will pass away
What, what will they say about me?
When the end comes, I know
They'll say "Just a gigolo," as
Life goes on without me
It wasn’t that Tony was surrounded by a physical cloud of fog. It was worse. The world started looking foggy to him. Everything was becoming grey and dim, and it got worse – his body started fading.
No doctor had an explanation for his condition, although one said he suffered from idiopathic Bodily Alienation Treatment, which was doctor-speak for “I don’t know what’s causing it, but you’re becoming invisible.” There was no cure.
I ain't got no body, oh and there's
Nobody that cares for me, there's
Nobody that cares for me
As Tony became less visible, he became ever more desperate. He tried anything he could find, and eventually he lapsed into the fantastic, hoping for a miracle cure.
One morning, a scientist named John Thornbuckle called him out of the blue.
"I understand you're having trouble maintaining your presence," he said.
"Presence?" Tony said. "I'm turning invisible!"
They made an appointment for Thornbuckle to see him at 11:00 that morning. He arrived at Tony’s apartment a few minutes early, and rang the doorbell. Tony opened the door.
"Hello?" he said. "I'm John Thornbuckle, the scientist you made an appointment with?"
"Right here," Tony answered. "My name is Tony, but you can call me The Gigolo. Come on in." He turned and walked away. "Let's go into the living room," he said.
Thornbuckle followed him through the entryway and into the next room.
"Sit, please," Tony said.
Thornbuckle went over to the couch and started to sit down, and then jumped right back up again.
"Not on me!" Tony said.
"Who?" Thornbuckle said.
"Me–Tony! I'm sitting right here."
After he moved to a nearby chair, Thornbuckle dug through his supplies until he found a spray bottle.
He went into the kitchen and filled it with water. Then he went back to the living room and approached the couch. He spritzed the air around the spot where he'd tried to sit earlier.
The water mist clung to Tony and he became somewhat visible.
"What!" Thornbuckle said. “You’re nothing but skin and bones.”
Tony didn’t think he looked that bad, but then he hadn’t seen himself for quite a while.
"Eat something, for crying out loud!" Thornbuckle yelled. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Thornbuckle picked up his science bag and marched out the door, leaving a befuddled Tony in his wake.
“Not even science can help me,” he thought.
And I'll sing her
Sweet love songs
All of the time
After this debacle, Tony’s despair increased to the point that he was willing to try anything: crystals, foul-tasting mixtures, you name it. He even travelled to the Black Bayou and the Enchanted Forest in search of Hattie and Helga, two witches known for their magical powers. Hattie just cackled at him, but at least Helga gave him some fantastic cookies.
Now he was on his way to Romano’s Restaurant to meet his last chance – an artist who had had some success in prolonging the life and good looks of her clients through her portraits.
Tony’s clothes were visible so people could see him; he wore gloves, and a balaclava on his head. In any other town, this would have been odd, but this was New York and no one looked twice.
I ain't got no body, honey
Nobody that cares for me, there's
Nobody that cares for me
I'm so sad and lonely
Won't some sweet mama
Come and rescue me?
He made his way to the back room, where he met Bethany Hallward, a striking brunette he would have seduced in better days. Her great-great-grandfather was Basil Hallward, who had painted a famous portrait of Dorian Gray which had aged instead of Dorian, allowing him to keep his youthful good looks. Ms. Hayward was rumored to have her ancestor’s talent.
“I understand your problem,” she said, before Tony had a chance to explain his history.
“Can you help me?” he asked plaintively.
“My paintings freeze a person’s appearance from the time I paint them,” she said. “I can’t change how they look. I can’t turn a toad into a prince. You’re nearly invisible. I can’t help you – I can barely see you.”
And I'll sing her
Sweet love songs
All of the time
She will only be
And there's nobody
There's nobody
Nobody cares for me
Tony left the restaurant to the sound of Louis Prima’s classic hit, which he finally understood. He was out of ideas – there would be no cure. He was destined to total invisibility.
He had had a pleasurable, exciting life, which did bring him some comfort, but had he known the price of devoting his body to others’ pleasure, he would never have set foot in the country club.
I ain’t got no body.
Tony soon became totally invisible and passed from existence.
Nobody cares for me.
Back at the country club, a new lifeguard was causing quite a stir among the women.
#######################################
Week 7
Prompt: Intersection/Oxytocin Loops
I have had the pleasure of intersecting with Halfshellvenus’s fantastic entry: https://halfshellvenus.
“Oxytocin, often called the ‘love hormone,’ is released through various forms of physical touch, including gentle stroking, hugging, and massage.” Healthline AI Overview.
“Oxytocin, often called the ‘love hormone,’ is released through various forms of physical touch, including gentle stroking, hugging, and massage.” Healthline AI Overview.
This story is structured around excerpts from the weirdly humorous song “Just A Gigolo” by Louis Primo (1956), with some minor changes for the sake of the story. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kkrb4h4weW4
I AIN’T GOT NO BODY
New York looked dim enveloped in fog. It made Tony Romano think of one of his favorite cities. In San Francisco, the fog was part of the City’s charm, the way it hugged the hills, with the tips of the Golden Gate Bridge peeking through. Unfortunately, he was in New York and fog was just fog. Even worse, this fog was personal.
In his heyday, Tony Romano was well-known in certain circles, but those circles had collapsed. Once, women wanted him and men wanted to be him, except for husbands and boyfriends, who feared and hated him. But all his good looks and charm had come at a price, and now he was paying it.
“I wish I could be 17 again,” Tony said to no one as he walked down the street toward Romano’s, his uncle’s restaurant in Brooklyn. It was known for its authentic Italian food and live music, and it attracted women of a certain age. Tony was once catnip to women of all ages and he was feeling lonely, but tonight he had a personal meeting of a different kind.
I'm just a gigolo
People know the part I'm playin'
It all started when he took a job as a pool boy at the Wexford Country Club. He was just 17 and he was intimidated by all the rich people and especially their gorgeous daughters. He was from Little Italy and invisible to the members. He spent his shift handing out towels, fetching drinks, and doing whatever members wanted.
Then one day, he had to fill in as a lifeguard at the swimming pool. Lifeguards wore small red Speedos and nothing more, although he did get a whistle on a lanyard. With his good looks, lean, muscular body, and dark wavy hair, he quickly became popular and soon he was hired full-time to sit in the lifeguard’s chair and watch the children while the women watched him.
The Club was known for its young, attractive second wives and trophy girlfriends. They had a lot in common besides their beauty – they were bored. Being the toy of a wealthy, older, and not-so-attractive man was part of the job, but it was still lonely and dull.
Pay for every dance
Sellin' each romance
Oh, what they sayin'?
It started when Aisha M. began to flirt with him while he was in the lifeguard’s chair. She enjoyed seeing his embarrassment as he casually tried to hide the inevitable reaction. Then one day, Aisha asked him for a drink after he got off work. The fact that he was underage just made it that much more enticing for her. The end was predictable and satisfying for both of them.
The next day, Aisha gave Tony one of her husband’s expensive watches.
“He has so many he’ll never miss this one,” she told him.
Word quickly spread among the pool women and Tony became very popular after Aisha told her friends about their trysts.
“I’m not a hooker,” he told himself. “I’ve don’t take any money.”
Expensive gifts, however, were a different matter and they were gratefully given and received.
Tony gave no thought to the consequences of going from an invisible pool boy to a very popular gigolo -- he didn’t even know the word, even though he was a natural.
One day, the members of the Tony Club, as they called themselves, were having lunch and comparing experiences. Kiara T. had an idea which managed to make even her blush.
“Why don’t we make Tony our boy toy?” Kiara said. “Let’s set him up in an apartment so he can be available all the time.”
All the women agreed, and before he knew it, Tony lived in a nice apartment and all he did was entertain gorgeous women. It was every 17-year-old boy’s dream.
It got even better and went the way of all things gigolo. Yasmin P. gave him a Jaguar convertible and others bought him stylish clothes; after all, they couldn’t be seen in the company of someone who bought his clothes at a mall and drove a used car. Tony quickly lost his Brooklyn accent. He was shown at the best restaurants, improved his manners, and learned where to go for all the nice things in life. He accompanied women on trips to exotic resorts.
This arrangement went on for years. The women changed but the new ones were even more generous. Tony provided much more than physical pleasure. He was a great listener and he truly cared for the Club. Many times, there was no sex, just a quiet evening of talk and cuddling.
But it finally reached a point where Tony was getting older. When he turned 30, the demand for his services decreased, and the gifts became less expensive and less frequent. Talk started about finding a younger Tony.
One night when he was alone yet again and having a drink by the fireplace, he thought, “I need a new business plan.”
Over the next few days, he decided to offer himself to older rich women who would appreciate his sophistication. This lasted for quite a while, but the end was in sight. He reached his forties with a very specialized skill set that made it hard to find a conventional job, so he remained a gigolo, although he heard the whispers that he was just an aging Lothario.
It was on his fiftieth birthday that Tony’s fog started.
There'll come a day
And youth will pass away
What, what will they say about me?
When the end comes, I know
They'll say "Just a gigolo," as
Life goes on without me
It wasn’t that Tony was surrounded by a physical cloud of fog. It was worse. The world started looking foggy to him. Everything was becoming grey and dim, and it got worse – his body started fading.
No doctor had an explanation for his condition, although one said he suffered from idiopathic Bodily Alienation Treatment, which was doctor-speak for “I don’t know what’s causing it, but you’re becoming invisible.” There was no cure.
I ain't got no body, oh and there's
Nobody that cares for me, there's
Nobody that cares for me
As Tony became less visible, he became ever more desperate. He tried anything he could find, and eventually he lapsed into the fantastic, hoping for a miracle cure.
One morning, a scientist named John Thornbuckle called him out of the blue.
"I understand you're having trouble maintaining your presence," he said.
"Presence?" Tony said. "I'm turning invisible!"
They made an appointment for Thornbuckle to see him at 11:00 that morning. He arrived at Tony’s apartment a few minutes early, and rang the doorbell. Tony opened the door.
"Hello?" he said. "I'm John Thornbuckle, the scientist you made an appointment with?"
"Right here," Tony answered. "My name is Tony, but you can call me The Gigolo. Come on in." He turned and walked away. "Let's go into the living room," he said.
Thornbuckle followed him through the entryway and into the next room.
"Sit, please," Tony said.
Thornbuckle went over to the couch and started to sit down, and then jumped right back up again.
"Not on me!" Tony said.
"Who?" Thornbuckle said.
"Me–Tony! I'm sitting right here."
After he moved to a nearby chair, Thornbuckle dug through his supplies until he found a spray bottle.
He went into the kitchen and filled it with water. Then he went back to the living room and approached the couch. He spritzed the air around the spot where he'd tried to sit earlier.
The water mist clung to Tony and he became somewhat visible.
"What!" Thornbuckle said. “You’re nothing but skin and bones.”
Tony didn’t think he looked that bad, but then he hadn’t seen himself for quite a while.
"Eat something, for crying out loud!" Thornbuckle yelled. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Thornbuckle picked up his science bag and marched out the door, leaving a befuddled Tony in his wake.
“Not even science can help me,” he thought.
And I'll sing her
Sweet love songs
All of the time
After this debacle, Tony’s despair increased to the point that he was willing to try anything: crystals, foul-tasting mixtures, you name it. He even travelled to the Black Bayou and the Enchanted Forest in search of Hattie and Helga, two witches known for their magical powers. Hattie just cackled at him, but at least Helga gave him some fantastic cookies.
Now he was on his way to Romano’s Restaurant to meet his last chance – an artist who had had some success in prolonging the life and good looks of her clients through her portraits.
Tony’s clothes were visible so people could see him; he wore gloves, and a balaclava on his head. In any other town, this would have been odd, but this was New York and no one looked twice.
I ain't got no body, honey
Nobody that cares for me, there's
Nobody that cares for me
I'm so sad and lonely
Won't some sweet mama
Come and rescue me?
He made his way to the back room, where he met Bethany Hallward, a striking brunette he would have seduced in better days. Her great-great-grandfather was Basil Hallward, who had painted a famous portrait of Dorian Gray which had aged instead of Dorian, allowing him to keep his youthful good looks. Ms. Hayward was rumored to have her ancestor’s talent.
“I understand your problem,” she said, before Tony had a chance to explain his history.
“Can you help me?” he asked plaintively.
“My paintings freeze a person’s appearance from the time I paint them,” she said. “I can’t change how they look. I can’t turn a toad into a prince. You’re nearly invisible. I can’t help you – I can barely see you.”
And I'll sing her
Sweet love songs
All of the time
She will only be
And there's nobody
There's nobody
Nobody cares for me
Tony left the restaurant to the sound of Louis Prima’s classic hit, which he finally understood. He was out of ideas – there would be no cure. He was destined to total invisibility.
He had had a pleasurable, exciting life, which did bring him some comfort, but had he known the price of devoting his body to others’ pleasure, he would never have set foot in the country club.
I ain’t got no body.
Tony soon became totally invisible and passed from existence.
Nobody cares for me.
Back at the country club, a new lifeguard was causing quite a stir among the women.
#######################################
no subject
Date: 2025-08-22 06:05 pm (UTC)I hope you have a great vacation!
Dan
no subject
Date: 2025-08-22 09:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-30 02:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-30 07:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-30 06:39 pm (UTC)I got a kick out of Tony's unplanned shift into his new career, and then the sad fading into more and more remote approximations of his former glory.
Such desperate hopes, such worthless results! I liked the revisitation of Hattie and Helga, and the genius inclusion of the Dorian Gray possibility.
And all of that from wilfully misinterpreting song lyrics. The places your mind goes!
Thanks so much for partnering with me. It was a blast!
no subject
Date: 2025-08-30 07:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-30 10:06 pm (UTC)Also, this rang very true, especially as a female. With age, it often feels we start to fade in others' eyes.
I guess this could also be a fable of sorts: Be sure there is more to you than your looks/ body?
I loved the "shout out" to the witches :)
All his attempts to solve his problems were very creatively written :)
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