And I know the night is fading

And I know the time's gonna fly
And I'm never gonna tell you everything I've gotta tell you
But I know I gotta give it a try

Morning. 

Monday morning. 

A rainy Monday morning. I should have set up a camera to record an ASMR vid while I write. Just now, you would have heard the clickety clack of the keys, the tap tap tap of the rain, and the sweetest sigh like someone falling in love. Today, June first of 2026, falls on a Monday, the day after a full blue moon in Sagittarius, and it's raining. How long have we been friends? If it's been more than a minute, you know, I love every word in those sentences. June is destined to be a most perfect month if started like this. 

All the same, May will be a tough act to follow. Where did we leave off? My May kicked off navel gazing on the dance floor of Manray, while the DJ spun NIN and nearly naked bodies stomped and swayed. It had been my intention to end the month at Mohegan, sharing the story about that boy who sings when he's really happy and the one time when he sang to me (readacted), with Ashley. But I am never ever allowed to tell that story and Ash couldn't make it. All good, one must expect and accept the challenges of time if one is ruled by Jupiter and crushing hard on another from her astro-tribe. Instead, I wrapped it up with my most vanilla bestie, doing yoga under the full moon. Clothes on, like I said she's my most vanilla bestie not my freakiest.  

In 10 minutes, I have to vanilla. I'm going to go in my PJs, I used to do that a lot. Because it's a flex, and I can. I double dog dare ya to tell me I can't. There is however much to be gained from following conventional standards and dressing one's best. I am grateful for the years my top held me to it. 

Can I finish the entire recap of May in under 10 minutes? No me know, can you keep up?

First June accountability, I'm going to post 3 times in June. Stop laughing, A. The outlines exist already and B. Dionysus said he'd do something about the 24 hours in a day thing. Yes him, the God of wine that my vanilla name derives from. I think we're going to get Mercury tipsy and lock him a cupboard or something. It'll be fun, and finally I'll have more time to play with. Wish I had thought to ask him sooner. 
Back to May, because oh my, wasn't it great? Big bull Taurus energy, note if that ASMR video were recording, I just bit my lip and wished so hard. But that wish is pinned, my top is still busy being all important and vanilla, and whatever TF he's doing while pining away for me, I hope. Let's see now, what did I do in May? I let Ashley get me all sticky with cotton candy. No, that's not a metaphor, actually sticky. Me and my sticky-phobia, I allowed and loved it, even in my ear. The things we do for love. I know it's so gauche to kiss and tell, and typically I am a keeper of secrets. But I am so down for a whirlwind of summer love and getting sticky with beautiful women. 

What else? Oh, I appeared on Nicholas's new show, YFK Cinema. We caught up, giggled and explored the cult classic Barbarella. The movie quite possibly responsible for starting me on this silly and sexy path. I hosted a group JOI on 231Mutual, and Ms. Danielle and I did an encore round of Behind the Whip. Note to my LD love, if you pop by, now that there will be more hours in the day, perhaps we can again explore making Behind the Whip an ongoing? Or something else, whatever, I miss you, let's play.  

Back to you, faceless masses, I'll be on 231Mutual again this Friday at 8:30p.  Show name tbd, but subject is confirmed; I'm going to share my thoughts on hiring a professional as a couple and as a single woman. Contact me if you'd like more info on joining 231Mutual, think of it as a welcoming but gated community. 

There's a small possibility I may head to Manray after for Yes Daddy. The odds of this happening will go up exponentially if my local friends decide to be less lame, hit me up if you intend to go. 

On a more formal note, I experienced my first lobby day in Albany, NY with Ela-One, DecrimNY and other sw organizations. To be honest, this is among the primary reasons I am looking for places where I can carve more time into my schedule. As a dominatrix, I have had the benefit of being in both one of the most lucrative and the safest corners of sex work. My legal risks have always been minimal, my personal safety has always been high, and as you know, I live a rather charmed life where most of my wishes have come true. I am ready and eager to give back to the community that I have thrived in, and as my little vanillas become not so little, as they become adult vanillas even, I finally can. 

Lastly Bailey Wilde and I were finally able to sync our schedules for a day of content creation last week. Teasers have already been seeded on most of my socials, full length videos should be posted to our fan sites within a week. Perhaps we could hit you off faster if you what? That's right, beg a little and tip a lot. 

My schedule for June is a rough outline and a commitment to go with the flow. We have not yet found my Barbie Dream House. While there is no real rush, looking at almost but not quite perfect spaces wreaks havoc on my equilibrium. The first half of June, now through Flag Day, I only have availability for service subs. If you desire purpose, if you wish to demonstrate your devotion in a meaningful way, step to the front please and come help get my house ready to list. The second half of June is being held open, I am not scheduling sessions with the hope that I will be settled into my soon-to-be discovered Barbie Dream Home and ready to leave my stuff there and go on an adventure lol. I've already had to alter my plans for Alaskan cruise with my vanilla bestie, I hope the Gods of Home and Hearth aren't asking me to sacrifice the rest of my summer plans.

Hit me up privately if you'd like the list of towns I'd consider moving to, and a sketch of what I'm looking for in my Barbie Dream House. 

For my junior fans, the lyrics at the top are from Making Love Out of Nothing at All, Air Supply circa 1983. 

You Can Have My Isolation

Note to those who popped by earlier, I didn't know I had subscribers, sweet. You really should leave a message below, let me know who you are. The version that went live this morning was a draft, accidentally shared when I only intended to pause. Blogger, as far as I can tell, doesn't allow unpublishing a post unless you delete completely. Much too close to what I intended to say to toss & start over, know what I mean? 

Now then, this is the final draft. 

I think.

Where were you the first time you heard Closer by NIN? The first time I heard it I was at a bachelor party for Chuck's friend. I no longer recall his friend's name, but Chuck was a tall strawberry blonde with hair longer than mine and tattoo of a topless woman on horseback. My BFF Tabitha and I were the entertainment at Chuck's friend's bachelor party, and our music ran out. Chuck stopped us from grabbing another of our CDs and said, I have something you're really going to like. 

He was right. On another timeline, I am certain I broke my self-imposed rules with Chuck, and lived out some you look so much like me narcistic taboo fantasies. On this one, I left with his copy of Downward Spiral and let him keep his soul. 

There was something familiar in the porn-pop bass, but the way every space is filled with sound, if you heard it for the first time in the 90s, you had never heard anything like that before. If you weren't introduced to the album version, if you were so unfortunate to hear the radio edit first you didn't actually hear, I want to fuck you like an animal. But you knew that's what Reznor wanted, because while they censored out the profane fuck, they left in the profound .... you let me violate you, you let me desecrate you, you let me penetrate you, you let me complicate you.  

Help me get away from myself

Most recently I heard it on Beltane, while grinding on the dance floor of Manrays. Hundreds of bodies rocking Doc Martens, fishnets, latex, electrical tape nip covers, just flowing and sharing a vibe. While contemplating how special yet appropriate it was to find myself there in that moment on the night celebrating the fertility rites of spring, it occurred to me some of these souls may very well been conceived while Nine Inch Nails provided the mood music for their ancestors. Then I blushed when I realized perhaps Trent was spinning while one or two or maybe more of my descendants sparked into being too. 

I broke apart my insides, I've got no soul to sell. 

Yesterday was 3 Mother's days without my mother. That isn't the whole truth though, we didn't spend 2023 together either. That last year, on the Wednesday following I called, I said I left you a message on Sunday. She said I know, I was busy, what did you want? Imagine any infliction you wish, I have intentionally erased the tone from my memory bank. Two weeks later she was admitted to the ICU, and I still haven't found the rewind button. Shortly after my mother passed, I had a dream, I think I may even have already shared it here, she told me now that she lives in my imagination, we'll get along so much better. That wasn't entirely true either. I'm currently pissed at her and not speaking to her at all. 

I invited her to Manray once. Not this incarnation, the original back in 2000. She was 48 then, younger than I am now. I must have been going with Mistress Lisa that night, not my sane Ex or that new guy I was lusting over. You know the artist that often rocked a Bowie in Labyrinth look. It must have been with Mistress Lisa. Mistress Lisa was the dad of a kid my little sister dated, and while I enjoyed her company, I was hoping to pawn her off on my mom. He was cool enough, but not my type. My mom however has always loved a man in uniform, and hetero cross-dressers in the 90s really were just dudes in alt uniforms. 

It's really easy to imagine an alternate timeline where she didn't say she was too old to go to a club that opened at 9p. I can see myself taking her by the hand, making her try on my latex skirts, convincing her that she looks great in fishnets. Come on, try the black lipstick, it'll be fun.  Why not go out to a club that opens at 9p, we can bail if you're not having fun. How would that timeline unfold? If the sane ex was there that night, would my mom had acted like a high school bestie? Gotten all up in his face,dude you're breaking my daughter's heart? If the new crush were there would the objections she had to him later have come sooner? It wouldn't have mattered, I wouldn't have listened. I have always held the opinion that my mother had terrible taste in men. Her objections would have made him even more irresistible to me. But I can see so many possibilities. While grabbing post club breakfast would she have said, whatever happened to the boy that was moving to Florida, you should see if he's on that MySpace. My imagination holds no timeline that lacks the souls that sprung from that window in time. Fate had them lined up for me long before that weekend. But maybe had she gone Mother's day 2023 would be the year she told my little vanillas how their crazy mother dragged her to a fetish club back in 2000, can you imagine? 

The Gods of Winter Have Left the Building

You were saying something about best intentions? 
Bang. 
You're finished? Oh, well then allow me to retort. 

Bad ass scene, right? If you're unfamiliar with it, I'm going to need to see your ID. 

There's an incomplete post on the dashboard behind this one. It started strong, but it'll probably die there. I can claim that I intend to revisit it, and I do, but well, it's spring. The days are longer but there's still only 24 hours in each of them, know what I mean? It's unfortunate, I penned some real gems but excavating them out now doesn't feel like the best investment of my time. 

If you want a different result, you must do things differently. That isn't the gem. I've acknowledged and affirmed the truth of that concept a million times. You don't know anyone more dedicated to novelty and spontaneity than me. Wait, can one be devoted to spontaneity, or is that an oxymoron? 

Jumbo shrimp for everyone.  

The gem, focus Cass the timer is ticking. The noteworthy gem is taking it further. Asking myself, but do I want different results? Perhaps I should just chill here longer. It is a pretty sweet spot. My poodle is pink, and French, my ride is red, fast and Italian. 

What more could a girl want? 

March first I took two of my not-so-little vanillas to see Boy George perform at Mohegan. We tossed oysters at Summer Shack before the show and had room service bring us ice cream after. I (re-)told the story of calling my mom to the living room to watch the video for Karma Chameleon on MTV or maybe it was on V66, I don't think we had cable in 84. In any case, my mother joined me and sincerely asked: Are you sure he's boy? Yes (childhood nick-name redacted) I heard you, his name is Boy George. Maybe it's meant to be clever? He just said, I'm a man who doesn't know and he's awfully pretty to be a boy. While my first queen crush belted out everything from covers of Let's Dance and Skinhead Shuffle (be quiet, go Google, it's not what you think), I held court in the nosebleed seats. Tina and Stephanie, my single serving besties, shared their glow sticks with me, dorky dude behind me photo-bombed all my pics and my descendant (and grand descendant) witnessed so many strangers compliment the side slit gown I almost didn't wear because I've rocked it on 2 other occasions.   

Baby Cass on Border Road in 1984 would be wicked impressed. 

I wonder though if she'd be surprised. 

The following weekend I jetted to NY to see my- still haven't pinned down what I should call her here. She introduces me as her mentor, and her friends know who I am before she says my name. Her friends are fascinating, authors, artists, activists, clowns; passionate, happy, and kind. I love every single one of them. I had planned to see her that weekend, but I was going to miss her performance. Everything had lined up for us to spend Sunday together. The show that, allegedly, violated multiple statues was on Friday. I had a session on Friday. Then my well-planned weekend that would have ended watching movies and cuddling on Sunday fell apart. But that left a gaping hole in my calendar that was essentially already paid for too. So, I unpacked the dungeon gear, and re-packed for watching a live CNC scene staring Satan and Nikki Sweet that leads to an exorcism-abortion, and God's reclaiming of the lost souls into Her body, in a dive punk bar in Queens. It was absolutely amazing, and I intend (like the road to Hell is paved) to expand on the evening soon.  

Weird and Kinky was the next weekend. Bailey met me there, and we started planning our next collab, I know you pervs are dying to see me transform her into a perfect sissy slut again, promise it's coming soon. Does it reflect poorly on me that I can't think of anything especially noteworthy to share from an event called Weird and Kinky? It was twenty or so vendors of high quality, sadistic toys, restraints, and art. I bought a print that I know Master John will love, and one for my place that he won't. I replaced my red, poly-carbon rug beater with a blue one. I suspect Master John will love that too. It was a very well-done event, just like every other weird, kinky, fetish event I've ever attended. Pervs plan well and tend to be detail oriented. Oh, that weekend also included brunch with a certain no-longer newbie kitten I absolutely adore. It's been such a gift to cross paths with her as she found her place within the community. It's the sort of thing I am referring to when I try to convey how wholesome my community feels to me. 

I also co-hosted a couple nights with Ms Danielle on 231 Mutual, there's another scheduled for tomorrow. Sadly, our plans to get together irl fell apart.  But I'm certain we'll connect soon, and if you ask nicely, we might let you watch.

Then March wrapped up with taking my most vanilla BFF to see a Katelyn Bailey's, The Oldest Profession. It's a comedy show, exploring 10,000 years of history through the lens of sex work. Absolutely a must see, bring your mom if you can. 

Do I want different results? This is pretty much exactly the charmed life I imagined every time I rolled my eyes at an adult trying to explain to me that I can't have everything I want. That women in particular must choose, family or career and by the way neither will be particularly fun.

 I am so grateful for my rebellious nature, and my commitment to pleasure.