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“When we’re looking for validation from anything—a person, a reflection in the mirror—it’s problematic. We’re only as good as that thing telling us we’re good.Praising and punishing is part of the dynamic.” Plus, flirting might just be part of their professional persona.

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“[But] we spend a lot of time with them and [might] end up telling them our weaknesses emotionally, too.When something this incredible happens, the telling turns us into conspiratorial raconteur, so astonished that it’s happened to us that we almost don’t believe ourselves.But unlike low-budget pornography, these stories inevitably have a subtext.Obviously, it all sounds like winning the sexual jackpot.“He really is an amazing trainer and I honestly think he knows my body and my limits,” says Laura. It’s a bizarre thing.” It is no surprise she recounts the story with the relish of an arch gossip.Mine once told me I had “good legs”, though he might have meant strong.

But for a very gilded few—Madonna, who had a daughter with hers, being one of them—the personal trainer trope is more than fantasy.

Certainly, shagging the PT is the thrilling climax (hopefully literally) of months—even years—of sexual chemistry.

But he or she is not simply the divine, sculpted figure in a fucking good anecdote (pun intended). Granted, that certainly adds the quiver of impropriety – but it might also mean they lose their job.

In classes, they played all the usual games – his eyes finding hers, the contact lasting a few seconds too long during dirty lyrics he’d mouth at her from across the room.

“I know it sounds cheesy,” she laughs, “but at the time it was so hot.” She’d “chickened out” a previous time.

You rely on your trainer for reassurance, for motivation, to gee you up when you feel uninspired and dispirited by life.