Lion Head Mesa sakura no hana

maggie smirked a smug smile, sparking backward, out of range. "yew ain't greater than me, love, not when yer nuffin but a worthless virgin!" the coyote climbed swiftly to the upper hand once more, circling sideways. 
"virtue ain't done a woman in this world a damn bit o'good," she snapped gaily. "'ow can yew tell yerself yer worth more when it's clear what the man o'this cunny-'ouse values! and it aint a frigid girl wiv 'er skirts tucked too high into 'er crack, oi'll tell yew that!"
maggie was prepared to leave, but not without a final blow. "get yerself rid o'that maiden'ead soon as yew can. oi'm certain phayrow would love to be the first, an' gentle besides. else yew can 'awk it," the beauty spat. "i once knew a lass what got fifteen goldfinches an' a proper title! an' all for the pleasure of first go!"
she seethed, pushing hatred through the sieve of a glossy smile. "'ain't an 'usband in the world what'll give you that sort of freedom, no matter 'ow pure, yew daft ramekin."
maggie turned, cackled, and darted back toward the mesa.