"Make it look sexy," Strictly Come Dancing's Anton Du Beke whispers into my ear, his fingertips sweeping over the curve of my bottom, our sweaty bodies moving in unison. "Make it look enticing, exhilarating, hot." As he grips me tightly against his body, my cheek fiery against his, we sweep across the floor, do a bit of fancy footwork, reel off a couple of spins, add in a quick backbend, and even throw in a kiss.

If I weren't in a complete panic about losing my footing and sliding disgracefully onto the parquet floor, I might be doing a better job of all this. But I'll be honest here: I'm no Kelly Brook or Alesha Dixon. It's nearly impossible to look sexy right now, despite being in the company and safe-keeping of a man recently lauded as having "the sex (appeal) of Brad Pitt".

Me and my two high-heeled left feet are learning to dance - and who better to teach us than Anton, one of the top ballroom dancers in the world and professional instructor on the BBC One show?

Once I'd heard about Anton's new book - Anton's Dance Class (a sort of step-by-step guide to ballroom and Latin dance and replete with a teach-yourself-the-moves-by-watching-Anton-dance DVD), I found myself in a Strictly frenzy.

There's something about being twirled, sashayed and supported by this capable man that's made Lesley Garrett, Esther Rantzen and even Cherie Blair sing Anton's praises.

He grips my body in ways that would make my boyfriend whimper and with his eyes boring into mine the way that they do, I might not even have a boyfriend anymore. Anton is good. He's so good, in fact, that Esther, his then 64-year-old dance partner on series two of the show, lamented the fact that their relationship always remained "vertical and fully dressed".

"All I do with Lesley, with Esther, with my partners, is try to have a nice time," explains Anton. "I try to make the time we spend together lovely and pleasant. To make it unpleasant makes no sense to me.

"It's petrifying and hard enough anyway," he continues. "You don't really know what the routine is. You're on stage, live to the nation. You've had a week to learn to dance, you're standing in the wings, the camera's on you, and they ann-ounce your name. The band strikes up, you've got the four judges, a studio full of people and 10 million people watching at home.

"There's a huge sense of vulnerability. You're laid bare to the nation and to all your personal fears and you're asking yourself to do something which is so far out of your comfort zone.

"It's a bit of a life-changing experience really because you do think, If I can do that, I can do anything."' It must be his patience, kindness and empathy that make Strictly's casting crew consistently partner him up with older and less experienced women. While Bren-dan Cole gets to rumba with sexy Kelly and Matthew Cutler Alesha, Anton's had to counter sloppy footwork and high-strung nerves from his students for the past few seasons. And this season's proved a difficulty of its own: his newest partner, GMTV presenter Kate Garraway, has suffered from tendonitis throughout the programme thus far.

"I love Alesha. Alesha is hot. She is on fire. But Kate's lovely," he adds quickly. "I'm very pleased with Kate. She's willing to learn and wants to be in the studio, and that's the key, really. The struggle is when you're dancing with somebody who really doesn't want to be there."

But for a man who's made his fame and fortune in the realm of ballroom dance, Anton's dance career seemed a bit of a struggle itself. Born to an alcoholic Hungarian father and a Spanish mother, Anton's enthusiasm for dance was at times as well understood as Billy Elliot's.

"Oh I had problems, yeah, it didn't... yeah," he trails off. "I had lots of issues and problems like (Billy Elliot), but that's fine. It's all part of life."

Luckily for Anton, life as a professional ballroom dancer has paid off. Currently ranked in the top 24 world ballroom couples with his long-term dance partner Erin Boag, Anton is choreographing a new 2008 season of the sell-out show Simply Ballroom, and still finds the time to teach a weekly ballroom and Latin dance in a studio in north London.

Despite not having the time for much else, including romance, he says he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Oh my God!" he screams, his hands in the air. "How much do I love dancing?! Dancing means everything - it's my whole life. It's the most wonderful thing I could ever do, or want to do, or do do. When it's good," he adds, his hand now on my thigh, "it's better than sex."

His exuberant campness, questionable age (estimates range from 29-45: he's hard to pin down on the subject), and the hair that looks like it's been dyed a richer-than-au-naturel colour, all make Anton a bit unusual. But somehow it all adds to his charm.

"One of my teachers used to say: Get better'. Not in a conventional sense. But: don't blame the judges, don't blame your partner, don't blame the floor, don't blame the suit, don't blame the weather, just get better. And that for me was a sort of mantra by which to live by. Go to practice, don't complain, just get better," he says.

And then he says something that sets my heart aflame: "By the way, Kate, you were lovely to dance with."

Ladies, I don't care if he's lying. Lesley Garrett was right: every woman in the world should have half an hour with Anton.