When I called Faith last night to dissect the good and the bad, she laughed voraciously. ‘You’re getting sex, darling. Orgasms, no less. What did you expect from someone you picked up at a dance club?’ She told me it’s the sort of nonsense she put up with for years. For all our in-depth conversations about her romantic life, for all my envy about her raunchy affairs, I never knew.

When I talked to Poppy this morning, she’d warned me I have only myself to blame. Apparently, it’s my fault for seeing Carlos so regularly – thereby breaking the rules of the buddy system. I tell her I don’t think I am cut out for casual sexing. In my heart, I know I’m girlfriend material. I need more than meaningless orgasms.

Whether I dump him as my sex partner now or later is one thing. But if Carlos is a no-show on set, I may be forced to drag Pugsy, the man with the face of a pug, in front of camera as my inaugural love interest – scarcely the ego or ratings boost I or Joanna are after.

Then in he waltzes – bronzed, strong and looking sexy – Carlos.

‘Ola, Crazie,’ he shouts happily.

I disengage respectfully from Harry, who’s had his arm casually around my waist. We’ve been like this recently. Warm, friendly, tactile.

‘Carlos, I’m pleased you made it.’ I narrowly avoid Carlos snogging me in front of everyone with a deft turn of my head. His lips land moistly on my cheek.

‘Harry, this is Carlos. Carlos, this is my agent, Harry.’

‘I pleased to meet you,’ Carlos says, shaking his hand.

‘Carlos, pleased to meet you,’ Harry says. Harry knows only that we met at the salsa club and he is my date for today.

Carlos is several inches taller than Harry. He clasps his long, strong fingers around mine. He’s wearing his white T-shirt and tight black trousers. Joanna, speaking with the crew, gapes her mouth behind his back. Carlos is a hit.

‘You are Crazie’s boss?’

‘I’m her agent,’ Harry says.

‘Her servant?’

‘Yes, I’m her servant.’

‘Harry, behave,’ I growl.

He grins mischievously.

‘I meet Crazie at dancing,’ Carlos carries on. ‘She es great dancer. Very sexy. We dance together all the nights.’

‘Do you now?’ Harry looks at me, trying not to laugh. ‘Well, that explains her joie de vivre of late.’

I’m trying not to laugh now, too. I’m not even sure what’s funny. ‘Stop, Harry.’

‘Har-i,’ Carlos repeats, practising.

Poppy rushes over.

‘Carlos, sweetie,’ she squeals, lavishing kisses on Carlos’s chiselled cheeks. He drops my hand to lift Poppy’s tiny frame off the ground. When she enquires if we are still dancing together, Carlos sweeps me into an impromptu shimmy across the studio.

I protest at once, stopping us dead immediately. ‘No, Carlos. We’re not at the club. Work, okay? No dancing.’