Lucinda Belle Craddock née Van Mott clutched her bucket of quarters and pulled the lever one more time, for Frank. The little Chihuahua in her arms had always loved the rolling tumblers of the slots machines. Lucinda Belle had been told on more than one occasion that pets were strictly forbidden from the gaming floor of the casino. And, on more than one occasion, she’d stomped a foot or poked an eye and run off into the clouds of cigarette smoke expelled from retiree’s lungs.

After all, Frank was her lucky charm, and she’d be damned if any casino gendarme was going to take him from her. What’d be the point of gambling without your lucky charm. That’d be like screwing truck stop hookers without a rubber. An activity which her late brother had taken up during his wild oats years, and subsequently resulted in his genitals rotting off and the state declaring him legally insane. Which is how she managed to come into sole possession of her family’s rather sizable fortune.

And also how her fortune hunting husband came to find her. Billamont Craddock was a stunning, weather hewn piece of a man. He piqued her attention with stories of adventures on the high seas, and kept it with a penis the size and rigidity of a marble rolling pin. She’d learned from her brother though, and kept that thing wrapped up during their courtship and well into their marriage. Which apparently didn’t sit well with Billamont, who tried to poison her for her money three months in.

It had been Frank, a wedding present from Billamont, that had discovered the poison by lapping at Lucinda Belle’s morning coffee. She’d spent a rather obscene amount saving the dog’s life. And marginally less having Billamont shot. Both were worthwhile investments.

A remind about these, I’m taking prompts from Lindsey and spitting out 300 word bits of fun.