With taxi drivers, Claude often quarrels but when men on motorbikes give him a lift, Claude automatically gives them whatever they ask and often a little bit more. This seems the most natural thing in the world and indeed he hardly thinks about it. After all, they have just been through a life-threatening experience together. How could they fail to be fond of each other, as old soldiers are?
Isn’t it fair, to give a guy a few bucks, if he asks for it nicely, when you’ve had your legs wrapped around him for the last twenty minutes? Enough for a beer at least?
Imagine, Claude thinks, if we had to pay money to everyone about whom we have lewd and lascivious fantasies! A kind of microscopic alimony for the use we have made of their image and form. Say, point zero one cents a fantasy. Maybe point zero five it’s something really intensely perverse.
A lot of rough characters would suddenly be wealthy. Claude would be destitute and owe a lot of people money.