I wake up in a Premier Inn hotel room. I know it’s a Premier Inn because of the purple curtains and the strip across the bed, which is now thrown over a chair opposite. Premier Inn Purple. It’s still dark but I can see a shape lying next to me. Very still. Stinking of alcohol. He’s covered in wiry black hair and smells of stale aftershave and body odour, and my stomach heaves.

My head hurts but that’s nothing new. I creep to the bathroom and pee. I quickly dress and marvel at the fact that each time I end up in a stranger’s hotel room, so pissed that I can’t even remember leaving my house, I leave my clothes in the bathroom. I have a flashback of me laughing loudly and dancing naked to Bryan Adams.

I don’t drink anything or clean my teeth because the plumbing in these kinds of hotels leaves a lot to be desired. Very noisy indeed. I quickly go through this guy’s pockets, removing the contents of his wallet and taking his car keys. One credit card, just to make him suffer. He might not even realise it’s gone for a few days, then when the bank notifies him of a fraudulent transaction, he’ll have to remember cheating on his wife with a stranger in a bar who ripped him off.

I look on it as payment for my time. I flashback again, this time to me straddling him and bouncing up and down, feigning enjoyment. It’s like that saying, if a tree falls in the forest and no one’s around to hear it, does it make a sound? If you drink a bottle of vodka and fuck a stranger and you can’t remember it, did it really happen and could you have enjoyed it?

Like so many of the others, there’s a picture of his wife and kids in his wallet. I look at it for a split second and he stirs. Is this what happened with you and those women? Did they suddenly see a picture of me and Charlie and Laura and know about us? I freeze, tiptoe across the bedroom. I open the door and shut it gently behind me. I hurry down the stairs and raise my phone to my face as I go through the reception area.