'It's not just women, men like me can be victims of sexual abuse in the workplace too'

I stood next to him in the lift and my heart was thudding. He was in his fifties and I was barely 23. Could I turn back now and risk making an enemy of someone so powerful? No. Go to his room if you want to succeed — that’s the price he’s charging.

As soon as the door to the apartment closed he gripped my neck and pulled my face to his. I smelled the wine on his breath and heard his belt unbuckle. His tongue pushed my lips apart, covering them with spit and his wet face crushed into mine.

I pulled away and he rolled his eyes at my repulsed expression. “You give me a favour and I’ll give you a favour,” he whispered, before exposing his penis. I said I wasn’t in the mood but he slipped his hand into my jeans and groped me.

I escaped, somehow. He’d tried to block the door but then looked hurt and let me go.

That’s how my “work meeting” had ended. We were supposed to chat about my career over a couple of drinks. I was excited and flattered because he was an influential man who, apparently, saw potential in me as a young presenter. I felt clever to have such an important guy as a mentor and a friend.

He bought me cocktails and listened to my hopes, indulging and encouraging my vanity and false bravado, and making promises to set me up with this agent and that producer. He said he could introduce me to lots of people and, as he said it, he poured me wine and inched around to my side of the banquette. He said I was talented and claimed he could help me go all the way.

I could barely walk in a straight line by the end of the night. I’d accepted his offer of a spare room so that I wasn’t late for work in the morning. I cringe now because it’s hard to imagine that I didn’t see what was coming, but I was intoxicated and gullible.

My head rolled as our cab darted through backstreets, and I felt his fingers touch my knee. Then the inside of my leg. Then my crotch.

Watching the reports come out about Harvey Weinstein and the disgust at the way young, vulnerable women can be treated by older, powerful men made me think: “Yes. And it happens to young lads too.” There is more than one Harvey Weinstein, and not all of them are straight.

I’ve been invited to the toilets by older colleagues for oral sex and ploughed for lurid details of my sex life in chats by the kettle. A senior editor once asked for a picture of my penis. My bum has been pinched, my crotch cupped and even my hotel bed invaded.

That was the top exec from a major and highly respected TV channel. He was in his late forties and I was still in my mid-twenties. I’d met him through one of my first jobs as a radio newsreader. He’d invited me for dinner to discuss my potential as a TV presenter and I’d jumped at the chance, thinking lightning couldn’t strike twice, and besides, this guy was married with children. He surely wanted me for my potential. I treated myself to a hotel room and even bought nice shoes and a new shirt so I’d look like someone to be taken seriously. He sent me a text asking me my hotel address and room number and, confused and dumb as a box of pine cones, I’d told him.

I was fresh from the shower and wearing only a towel when there was a knock at the door. I opened it and he was standing with his moped helmet under his arm. I told him I wasn’t ready yet but he pushed his way in, and before I could say anything he was lying on my bed while I tried to cover myself with my arms. His bike helmet went to his crotch and his hand slipped underneath and began moving.

He asked me how much I wanted to be a presenter and, with a thump of disappointment, I realised what he was insinuating. I scrabbled for my clothes and got dressed in the bathroom, and when I came back in he had his genitals exposed. He looked me up and down and said I didn’t need to bother putting anything on. He was a top British TV executive, in charge of shows watched by millions.

He suggested we do a “quickie”, then he’d buy dinner and talk about some big opportunities for me. There were some screen tests coming up for a couple of new shows and if I played my cards right I would be great for them. I was talented apparently. So talented.

I replied that I didn’t really want to do anything. He said he’d made a famous male TV presenter’s career and they’d liked to have a “play”.

I admit, for a moment I considered doing it. By this point I was coming to the conclusion that the only way I’d ever get a break was to fellate a late- middle-aged TV executive.

And then he got nasty. “What were you expecting?” he asked me. “Just dinner?”

Nothing happened, and I never heard from him again. When I saw him years later, he looked at me across the room and slowly shook his head.

It makes me wonder how many young lads had said “yes” to him before. How many since? If I’d done what those men wanted, would I be more successful now? But I am sure of one thing — vulnerable people need protecting.

@AndyWestTV