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Part II
Right after breakfast, Coyote set out alone, armed only with his backpack. Where to find the Sultry Sisters was no mystery: they'd very publicly set up house at the old Mission near the town of Dry Gulch. They had been heard to say more than once: "No man'll ever take us in!" Apparently, they'd given no thought to coyotes.
The Mission looked deserted. Coyote came closer. He was about thirty yards away when a feminine voice called out: "Stop right there!" He looked up and saw them all standing on the roof: seven buxom brunettes, clad in white mini-dresses and matching high heels, and armed with bows and arrows. Seven arrows were pointed straight at his chitlins.
One of the girls leapt from the roof and floated, ever so gently, down to the ground. As she did, her hem flew up, revealing white panties. When she reached the ground, she unselfconsciously put her clothing back in order and advanced on Coyote. All the while, she kept her arrow at the ready. She was very pretty, with thick black hair that went all the way to her rear end, skin of the palest white, achingly full breasts, and nicely upholstered hips.
"Good golly," she said, "You're the Coyote!"
"That's correct, Miss, and good morning to you."
"Look girls, they sent the Coyote! We're celebrity outlaws! Well, Mr. Coyote, with all due respect, I think we got you covered!"
"So you do," said Coyote. "Something of a reversal of fortune, I'd say."
"That's for sure," said the girl. "The way I hear it told: you show up on the scene, and in two, three days tops, some poor fays are sayin' goodbye forever to their panties. 'He always gets his gal'; that's what they say."
"Substantially correct," said Coyote.
"But here you are, and we all got a bead on you. Why? I know you coulda been a lot sneakier."
"Perhaps I want something . . . different this time."
"Such as . . . ?" The girl took a step closer. As she did so, Coyote was suddenly overcome with such powerful longing for her that he fell to his knees. The scent of her body, the curve of her breasts, the insolent twist of her smile–he had to have it all.
"I see you're not immune," she said with a smirk.
"No, not in the least," said Coyote, "and that's a . . . a part of why I'm here. You see I'm tired . . . so very tired of it: hunting and catching beautiful ladies whom I have to dispatch as soon as I've caught them. It's a lonely, lonely life I'm condemned to, and I'm tired of it. I want . . . to end it. And I think you can help me end it. I've heard you're the most desirable fays in Mythica. You're the ones (the only ones) I want to help me end it."
"You mean," said the girl, "you want us to . . . . "
"Yes," said Coyote, "so that, before I die, I can be free from the terrible loneliness."
"We could just shoot you down where you stand. That'd end the loneliness. What's in it for us to do anythin' different?
"Well," said Coyote, "a few things. First, the not inconsiderable renown you'd win as the fays who seduced, bedded, and killed the great Coyote. Second, a whole host of benefits if we just happened to be . . . married when you did it."
"Married?" said the girl.
"Yes, married."
"Wow," she said.
"Exactly," said Coyote.
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