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The photocopier lives in a small room at the end of a long and little used corridor. I rarely saw anyone else when I am in there since I seemed to be the copier slave of choice.

So I was surprised when I heard voices as I walked down the corridor. Some women you can hear coming a mile off because of their high heels but not me. I wear sensible shoes with little to no heel. I'd be crippled if I tried to wear tall footwear all day when I am so often on my feet.

So maybe they hadn't heard me approach, which explains why they hadn't stopped.

But I should have made my presence known instead of gawking like some inquisitive pup.

Two men, hot young men I might add, guys I had never seen before were eagerly making out just in front of the copier. I could hear it whirring so they must have been passing the time until it finished their copying.

I expected one of them to look up at any moment and rumble me, and my stomach churned. I stood to one side of the doorjamb and so was not immediately obvious to a casual glance, but I was pretty certain that if I could see them they could see me.

I should have walked away or coughed or something but I just watched. I'd never seen two guys kiss before. The one time my mates and I attempted to get into a gay bar we weren't let in because we looked too straight.

I guess it is very similar to how straight folks kiss. I don't think there is a gay way to do it. A kiss is a kiss is a kiss. However the angles of two men do make the act look different. You have to make room for two hard-”ons in the middle somewhere. That must be challenging.

And stubble. I wondered if there was ever a problem with electric shocks with all that stubble rubbing together. I knew a way to stop that problem: insert me between the one with the chocolate brown spiky hair and the other longer, looser (hair wise I mean) blond. I'd take a bit of stubble burn to feel those two pairs of lips against my skin.

Who hasn't fantasised about being the hot and pliable filling between two slices of male deliciousness? If I had to pick two men purely on looks then the two who were snogging up a storm before me would have been at the top of my list. My fantastical musings went no further as my inbuilt and unerring clumsiness chose that moment to show itself.

I was so busy dreaming and drooling that I forgot I had the leaning tower of photocopying in my arms. I must have lowered them as I gawked because the next thing I knew, crash, swish, flutter. The pile of papers swirled onto the floor.

"Oh, I am sorry." Blond disentangled himself from Brunet and walked towards me. "It's terribly rude of us to be hogging the copier."

"No, no, I'm sorry I shouldn't have... should have. ..could have really,"

"Give up now, love, before you do yourself an injury." Brunet came over and joined his partner on his knees before me. I bit my lip whilst erotically naughty ideas fluttered through my mind but I resisted and knelt to help with the scooping up of my papers.

"So you must be the new temp girl." Dark-”eyed and Gorgeous placed some papers on the pile in my hand.

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At first she thought that the voice calling her name was merely her imagination but on the second call she realised it was real. She stopped just before she reached her car and looked over her shoulder.

Carlo was running down the street with a small cardboard box in his hand. "Cara mia, you forgot your cake." He panted slightly as he pushed the box into her hand.

"Oh, I did, didn't I? I'm sorry. You didn't need to chase after me, though." She turned to unlock her car.

"No, I had to. Roberto ordered it so, but also I wanted to speak to you."

"Oh yes?" She dropped the cake box into her car with her handbag without caring where they landed. What did you want to tell me?"

"I wanted you to know that the words I spoken earlier were really real, not just Italian hot air. I think you are so very beautiful and I would like to know more of you."

"Oh." She was lost for words. She didn't know what to say. She wanted to tell him to kiss her, to ravage her right there but her mouth just wouldn't work.

"Fiona?" He put his hand on her arm, "Are you all right? I can go if you're not, how do you say? If you do not want me."

"No, Carlo, no." She took a shuddering breath. "It's not that, I do want you. I do, I'm surprised to hear you say it."

"I must be losing my touch," he said as he stepped closer to her. "I was trying my best to seduce you."

"I, well...yes. Mmm." Fiona struggled to think, but he stood so close to her that she swore she could hear his heartbeat.

Then she realised it was her own. Before she could formulate a sentence he reached around and rested his hand on her back. She tipped back her head to look up into his face.

His lips lowered to hers.

The kiss was not as she had imagined, but was twice as hot and a million times more intense. He tasted of strong coffee and mellow sweet cheesecake, a perfect combination.

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I had to peep again, I just couldn't resist. I reached out to open the door once more without even glancing that way. My hand encountered something hard, but it was also warm and it certainly wasn't wooden like the door would have been.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I gasped. "I didn't see you there."

"It's okay," Rahul replied with a smirk. "I never complain when a pretty lady touches me."

"Are you all right? Do you need anything?"

I stepped back but didn't take my hand off his chest. Signals from my brain were taking forever to seep through the excited cells of my body to my fingers.

"I do want something," he said, and stared deep into my eyes as the door swung shut behind him. "I want you."

I wasn't sure I had heard him right at first. I decided I must have been fantasising again.

"Pardon?"

"I want you," he repeated. "I haven't stopped thinking about you."

"Me?" I was stunned. I should have leapt on him. I should have pushed my face to his, but all I did was stand rooted to the spot. Oh, and I gawped. Like a wide-”mouthed clown on a miniature golf course, I let my jaw hang loose.

"Yes," he affirmed, "you." He stepped forward and pushed a curl of my hair back behind my ear. His warm fingers lingered on my cheek, his soft palm lay gently on my heated flesh.

I held my breath.

He looked at my lips, and I darted my tongue out instinctively to wet the dried flesh that I had suddenly become intensely aware of.

It was just like my favourite moment from any Bollywood film. Time slowed, colours intensified and I noticed the ice shock of his blue corneas against the jet black, widened pools of lust that were his pupils.

I could hear the softened, romantic music. It might have been real or imagined, I wasn't sure, but everything in the background faded away, and it became as if Rahul and I were the only people in all the world.

The moment his lips touched mine, I felt as if I had been switched on. Turned on, certainly, but I was also fully functioning. Every little brush of his lips on mine registered in every last, little nerve. Every movement excited me. I realised I had been left on standby since I had been dumped by Danny, my body just going through the motions. Rahul's kiss brought me back to life.

I had never experienced anything of its like before. I suddenly realised why a kiss could bring Snow White back from the dead. I won't ever be able to explain exactly what happened to me then, but it was magical. I had watched a million movies, each of them hundreds of times over. I'd seen more first kisses than I could remember, and I always knew, deep in my heart, that a Bollywood kiss was a lie. It was acting. It was a show.

I got my first Bollywood kiss, and I realised that it was a reality. That love at first kiss could exist.