I've been a very bad girl. After several weeks of aborted hook-ups and mounting sexual frustration, I found myself with two hot prospects, and only one day off.
I'd already set up a meeting with Dan, a very cute PR executive, when I got a text from Brad, the fit Australian personal trainer.
I knew Brad was only in town for one week. But I've been so busy working 14-hour days filming a TV show and writing a second book that I've literally had to schedule loo breaks.
The only solution was to double-book them. I calculated that the chances of sex with Brad were higher, since his time here was so limited, so I figured I would meet Dan first. But Dan and I had amazing chemistry, and after several Bloody Marys and a stroll through Regent's Park we ended up falling into bed back at his place.
My orgasm was so intense that I drifted off to sleep. I woke with a jolt to discover that it was almost 6pm – I had to meet Brad in town at seven. I was in north London, so nipping home for a pre-date preparation session was out of the question.
I started to panic. I've never been a cheater, so I haven't really had to deal with the logistics of disguising a recent sexual encounter. I jumped into Dan's shower to rinse off, but stopped short of washing my hair due to his lack of conditioner or a hairdryer. I felt dirty, in more ways than one.
Luckily, I always carry an emergency pair of knickers, as well as condoms. I covered the rug burn on my knees with concealer, brushed my teeth with a face towel and blotted myself with a perfume sample I'd got free from a magazine. I had to make do with men's deodorant, which smelled like one of those tree-shaped car ornaments.
Could I get away with it? I definitely had a healthy glow. But when I met Brad in a wine bar, I was so paranoid that I may as well have had a massive "A" embroidered on to my top. I didn't have a commitment to Dan; in fact, we'd explicitly talked about keeping things between us casual.
Still, I felt pangs of guilt, so I called my friend Victoria from the loo. "Do you think I'm horrible?" I asked her. "How long should I wait between sleeping with two men?"
"If you are emotionally damaged, as long as it takes," she said. "Otherwise, long enough to shower."
She was right. If my date with Brad had been 20 hours later instead of a mere two, I wouldn't be beating myself up.
As Brad ran his hand up my thigh, I realised that my earlier sex session had only whetted my appetite for more. We were up all night, until he raced to the airport at dawn.
On my way to work, I thought about the fact that I'd had sex with two men on the same night. Technically, the second one was after midnight, so did it count as a different day?
Either way, I'm happy I had the experience. When I go back to having a steady boyfriend, I look forward to sex on tap. Until then, I'm going to take my chances when opportunity knocks.