Play it cool. Shrug it off

You smile politely enough. "Sure. If you say so." you shrug. After all, what are you supposed to do with this information? You suppose nothing. She's just telling you to keep your mouth shut. But that doesn't make it true.

"Do you not believe me?" She asks, a glimmer of shock in her eyes. As if telling someone this type of unbelievable information would never result in a little skepticism.

You shrug again. "I dunno. Maybe." It's kinda fun to tease Emilia Clarke a bit. Considering she came in here with the intent of teasing you. Well, she came in here to by dildos and pornos. But the bit about the non-stop Game of Thrones orgy can't not be a bit of a tease.

"I swear to you, a non stop fuck-fest." She insists, leaning in on the counter, so that you can see right down her shirt to her pale, pretty, bra-clasped breasts. "The costume designers hate us all, because they can barely get us to stay in wardrobe long enough to do a scene." She glares at you, studying your face for any evidence that you're convinced. "Sometimes they yell 'cut' and I just drop to my knees and suck the closest cock I can with everyone watching. No one cares. It's all expected by now."

"Okay" you answer. It's more than a little hot to know that Emilia is such a nympho. That is if any of this is true. Of course your cock doesn't care if it's true, and is getting stiffer and stiffer with every passing thought.

"And those girls that played my servants, my Dothraki servants. I've eaten them all out. Their cunts. Their arseholes. We couldn't keep our tongues off each other. It was really sad when they were written out of the show." She's so insistent. In truth, her insistence is one of the reasons why you're not exactly filled with blind belief in her story. You wonder if maybe she gets off on going around to strange men and telling them these outrageous tales.

Actually, you think, that makes sense. And where better to find a guy to tell these to, than a porn shop. But if that's what makes a beautiful actress happy, who are you not to play along? "Well, you're all, you know, good looking people. I'm not shocked that you're always fucking."

"I can't believe you don't believe me." She shakes her head. She's noticed that you've glanced down her shirt at her bra. And to at least some extend she knows she has you ensnared by her beauty. She's probably used to having lots of guys ensnared by her beauty.

"I just said I believed you." you answer. "Though you have to admit, it's kind of a hard thing to believe. I mean, screwing everyone without caring who fucks who and who sees isn't something most normal people do." You shrug. "But... I'm sure you're telling the truth."

Emilia gives you a big smile. As if you've just given her an opening. "We're not normal people. We're celebrities."

"Is there really that big of a difference?" You ask.

"Okay" Emilia nods. "I know you want to see my tits right now. I know because you keep glancing at them. What would a normal person do?" She seems absolutely delighted to be having this back and forth with you. And you're not sure how to answer. "Nothing, right? She'd just walk out." Emilia pulls down her blouse with one hand, grabs her left breast with the other, and pulls it out right into the open, flashing out.

It's a fantastic breast, pale skin, pink nipple, goose-pimpled flesh in the cool air. It's one thing to see it in the show, and other to see it right there in person. You try not to stare. Then again, why else did she just take it out. You stare a little.

"Now do you believe me?" She asks.

"Ummmm." You're focused on the fact that Emilia Clarke is currently flashing you. And trying to convince you that she and everyone she knows is a horny, insatiable, slut. "I believe that you like showing off your..." You don't have much of a comeback.

"Okay." Emilia interrupts. "Who would you believe?" She asks. "We're all in town for a big press thing for the new season. I'm coming back tomorrow with someone to corroborate my story. Who would you find most convincing?"

Your mind flutters with options. You think of all the women who are on the show. Is she really offering to bring any of them in to... do what exactly? You decide to give a cheeky answer. "Will they try to convince me with their tit too?"

"Maybe they'll convince you with their twat." Emilia answers. "C'mon, I'll text them right now, tell them to plan on coming here with me, convince the cute guy at the porn shop what goes on on set."

Cute guy? You wonder if she let that slip, or if that's just part of the act. But there's no time to wonder. Emilia wants a name. She's standing in front of you with her tit out and her phone out, ready to send a text. So you'd better provide one.