Yellow Mama Archives II

Diana Dominguez

Acuff, Gale
Ahern, Edward
Allen, R. A.
Alleyne, Chris
Andes, Tom
Arnold, Sandra
Aronoff, Mikki
Ayers, Tony
Baber, Bill
Baird, Meg
Baker, J. D.
Balaz, Joe
Barker, Adelaide
Barker, Tom
Barnett, Brian
Barry, Tina
Bartlett, Daniel C.
Bates, Greta T.
Bayly, Karen
Beckman, Paul
Bellani, Arnaav
Berriozabal, Luis Cuauhtemoc
Beveridge, Robert
Blakey, James
Booth, Brenton
Bracken, Michael
Burke, Wayne F.
Burnwell, Otto
Campbell, J. J.
Cancel, Charlie
Capshaw, Ron
Carr, Steve
Carrabis, Joseph
Cartwright, Steve
Centorbi, David Calogero
Cherches, Peter
Christensen, Jan
Clifton, Gary
Cody, Bethany
Costello, Bruce
Coverly, Harris
Crist, Kenneth James
Cumming, Scott
Davie, Andrew
Davis, Michael D.
Degani, Gay
De Neve, M. A.
Dillon, John J.
Dinsmoor, Robert
Dominguez, Diana
Dorman, Roy
Doughty, Brandon
Doyle, John
Dunham, T. Fox
Ebel, Pamela
Fagan, Brian Peter
Fillion, Tom
Flynn, James
Fortier, M. L.
Fowler, Michael
Galef, David
Garnet, George
Garrett, Jack
Glass, Donald
Graysol, Jacob
Grech, Amy
Greenberg, KJ Hannah
Grey, John
Hagerty, David
Hardin, Scott
Held, Shari
Hicks, Darryl
Hivner, Christopher
Hoerner, Keith
Hohmann, Kurt
Holt, M. J.
Holtzman, Bernard
Holtzman, Bernice
Holtzman, Rebecca
Hopson, Kevin
Hubbs, Damon
Irwin, Daniel S.
Jabaut, Mark
Jermin, Wayne
Jeschonek, Robert
Johns. Roger
Kanner, Mike
Karl, Frank S.
Kempe, Lucinda
Kennedy, Cecilia
Keshigian, Michael
Kirchner, Craig
Kitcher, William
Kompany, James
Kondek, Charlie
Koperwas, Tom
Kreuiter, Victor
Larsen, Ted R.
Le Due, Richard
Leotta, Joan
Lester, Louella
Lubaczewski, Paul
Lucas, Gregory E.
Luer, Ken
Lukas, Anthony
Lyon, Hillary
Mannone, John C.
Margel, Abe
Martinez, Richard
McConnell, Logan
McQuiston, Rick
Middleton, Bradford
Milam, Chris
Miller, Dawn L. C.
Mladinic, Peter
Mobili, Juan
Mullins, Ian
Myers, Beverle Graves
Myers, Jen
Newell, Ben
Nielsen, Ayaz Daryl
Nielsen, Judith
Onken, Bernard
Owen, Deidre J.
Park, Jon
Parker, Becky
Pettus, Robert
Plath, Rob
Potter, John R. C.
Price, Liberty
Proctor, M. E.
Prusky, Steve
Radcliffe, Paul
Reddick, Niles M.
Reedman, Maree
Reutter, G. Emil
Riekki, Ron
Robson, Merrilee
Rockwood, KM
Rollins, Janna
Rose, Brad
Rosmus, Cindy
Ross, Gary Earl
Rowland, C. A.
Saier, Monique
Sarkar, Partha
Scharhag, Lauren
Schauber, Karen
Schildgen, Bob
Schmitt, Di
Sesling, Zvi E.
Short, John
Simpson, Henry
Slota, Richelle Lee
Smith, Elena E.
Snell, Cheryl
Snethen, Daniel G.
Stanley, Barbara
Steven, Michael
Stoler, Cathi
Stoll, Don
Surkiewicz, Joe
Swartz, Justin
Taylor, J. M.
Taylor, Richard Allen
Temples. Phillip
Tobin, Tim
Traverso Jr., Dionisio "Don"
Turner, Lamont A.
Tustin, John
Tyrer, DJ
Varghese, Davis
Verlaine, Rp
Viola, Saira
Waldman, Dr. Mel
Al Wassif, Amirah
Weibezahl, Robert
Weil, Lester L.
Weisfeld, Victoria
Weld, Charles
White, Robb
Wilhide, Zachary
Williams, E. E.
Williams, K. A.
Wilsky, Jim
Wiseman-Rose, Sophia
Woods, Jonathan
Young, Mark
Zackel, Fred
Zelvin, Elizabeth
Zeigler, Martin
Zimmerman, Thomas
Zumpe, Lee Clark

Getting Personal

Diana Dominguez


          SHE made him wait, ten minutes the first time, seven minutes this time. To see if he’d leave or stay. To see if he’d be pissed off or annoyed. For the reaction.

          HE sat in his car texting.

          THEY met online in one of those ‘meat market’ chat rooms. While everyone else was talking trash and trying to out-slut each other, she observed. He made the first move. His user id: SilentRunning.

          HE’S forty to her thirty. He’s not married.

SHE doesn’t know if that meant he’s divorced, a widow or playing around.

HE fidgets when he drives, tugging on his shoulder seat belt, messing with the rear view and electric side mirrors. No conversation or music. Welcomed silence.    

          THEY go to hotels. The first time to the swanky Hilton in Santa Barbara. She figured he was trying to impress her.  This time to Carpentaria at one of those funky bungalows off the 101. Both times he paid cash.

SHE waited in his car, a gray Ford Taurus sedan. Immaculate, no gum wrappers or cigarette butts in the ashtray, no dust or fingerprints.

HE opened the door to the room––musty, outdated.

          SHE made a beeline to the bathroom. She peed, inserted her diaphragm, and popped a Valium. When she opened the door, he was in bed, naked under the sheets outfitted in a bland beige condom. Hairy. Thick and short.

          SHE got undressed.

HE stared, his face flushed.

SHE put her sweater, slacks, white bra and pink panties, knee-hi suntan nylons in neat piles on the sofa––saggy gold plaid with stains. His clothes were arranged on a chair. His keys, cell phone, and wallet on a white handkerchief spread out on the seat.

          HE doesn’t know foreplay; most men don’t. No kissing, touching or talking. On the third try, he was in. Eyes shut, grimacing, his nose hairs whistled.

          HER mind wandered. Did she feed her cat Othello? Email the landlord about the water beneath the water heater? She compared the rooms. Plush burgundy carpet in SB. Tired orange shag in Carp. Both had King-sized beds. Fancy drapes that matched the bedspread in SB. Dirty mini blinds, sweaty windows in this one. She could hear the dripping faucet in the lime-colored bathroom. Someone next door was watching TV: news, sports, commercials, a movie with gunshots and yelling.

SHE wondered if they could hear them. The springs sang; the headboard thumped the wall.

          HE came.

SHE didn’t.

          HE went to the bathroom to dispose of his condom and got dressed.

          SHE cleaned up with Kleenex, put her clothes back on, and made the bed.

          THEY ate afterwards. This time, Pepperoni and Sausage pizza at Giovanni’s on Carp’s main drag. Last time, breakfast at Sambo’s on Cabrillo in SB.

          HE talked about his job, sales manager.

          SHE doesn’t remember for whom.

HE was in charge. Goes to work when he wants. 

SHE figured she’s one of his sales calls.

HE took her back to her apartment.  No hug or kiss. He told her ‘have a nice day.’

SHE took a shower, fed Othello, emailed her landlord about water beneath the water heater, and then went to work, the three to midnight shift at an all-night diner. When she came home, she showered, brushed her teeth, flossed, then logged into the chat room.

THEY chatted and made another date. Next Tuesday, 9:00 a.m., Malibu.


          Diana Dominguez lives in Ventura, CA. Born and raised in Bliss, not the real name, but it sounds better than the original name. She likes saying, “I was born in Bliss.” She’s weird that way. She’s written one unpublished mystery novel and is working on the second one. She was a debt collector in another life.

Edit Text

Site Maintained by Fossil Publications