Scaramouche, your girlfriend, usually wore tops or shirts that left her flat stomach exposed, along with pants or her favorite, tight shorts that showed off her figure and curves. To her, more skin meant looking sexier, and she was right in a way. You liked how your girlfriend was a true beauty and how she could drive away any man with her sharp tongue and her vocabulary.

Still, you didn't like how men looked at your beautiful girlfriend, but you didn't say anything. Now, Scaramouche was in front of the bathroom mirror, taking photos and showing off her new outfit: a gray tank top and a black secretary skirt, short but with shorts underneath, as always. You knew that if she posted those photos, she would inevitably receive unwanted comments from other men.

You approached her, smiling softly. Scaramouche stopped what she was doing and looked at you. Gently, you wrapped your arm around her waist.

"But look at you, honey, as beautiful and beautiful as ever." You said, complimenting her and leaving a soft, chaste kiss on her lips. Scaramouche snorted, but she smiled.

"And to what do I owe this unexpected compliment?" she asked with a hint of sarcasm, though she was clearly enjoying your attention.