Books: "That's What She Said" By Eleanor Pilcher

 

That's What She Said

By Eleanor Pilcher

Avon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers; paperback; $18.99

Eleanor Pilcher is a published author of commercial fiction and an award-winning marketer in the publishing industry. Based in London, she is also a freelance journalist, public speaker, and founder of #MarketYourMarketing.

That's What She Said is Pilcher's fiction debut, and it is a hilarious look at the coming-of-age as young women of two best friends, Beth and Serena, and their very different sex lives. 

Beth is a demisexual has romantic/sexual feelings for another person after a deep emotional connection, while Serena is bisexual and open to having sex with people of different stripes and walks of life.

When Beth decides she's done being a virgin, and she enlists sexually confident Serena's help, and her personal journey may just push their friendship to the brink. 

This fun novel opens with Beth sinking quickly at a "hen do" party, when she was asked to share a sexual escapade during a game. Serena, always a friend in need, offers up a "sexcapade" from her own history when Beth sends a frantic "SOS" text from a bathroom stall. 

At the moment, Beth lacks confidence in her career, as well as her hopes at a happy relationship due to her sexual orientation, while Serena is a free spirit full of confidence, both in her job and her love life. Despite their different personalities, they knew they were platonic soulmates. 

When Beth starts to take charge of her sex life and starts to explore the things that scare her most, Serena is more than happy to help her through this journey. Beth's Sexual Odyssey List includes speed-dating, sex therapy tantra, a perplexed but ultimately very  nice escort.

Their worlds is thrown into a tailspin when Beth's crush from her old job and Serena's favorite friend-with-benefits pushes for more than just a physical relationship. Suddenly, this sexual odyssey is more than a fun gag, as it sets them on a course that will make them so much closer, or on the other hand, end their friendship for good.

Beth and Serena are roommates, and their story is told in their voices, in alternating chapters.

In this excerpt, Beth talks about the challenge of work the moment: The following morning, Serena headed off to her office in Holborn while I set up shop at home. The benefits of being self-employed are great at first, but after a while, the need to get up for core hours of working - in my case between ten a.m. and four p.m. - becomes increasingly difficult. Especially when you're struggling to find any meaningful work and you're still feeling the effects of a major hangover. 

But I managed it, eventually. By eleven I'd done all my emails. Mostly this consisted of me sending people my rate-card on request, knowing I'd likely never hear back from them. And unsubscribing from clothing-store subscriptions form 2008, which I was pretty sure were in breach of the General Data Protection Restrictions.

Then I looked at prospective marketing jobs, because the freelance lifestyle was punching me in the tits on the daily. My bank account had a permanent minus symbol attached; I had phone calls from the brink I ignored as expertly as I ignored the emails from the gym telling me they missed me.

And I was not enjoying myself. If anyone were to ask, I was loving the freedom of freelancing, but really, I was a stay-at-home companion for Serena. She paid all the bills in return for me keeping the place habitable and occasionally cooking her dinner.

At noon I left the flat with my societally inappropriate sticker-covered laptop - I love a "Fuck the Patriarchy" moment - for a nearby cafe.

Edith's Cafe. It was not owned by an Efith, but apparently named after one. I always went there for their seafood sandwich special and a Diet Coke at lunch. Nothing like routine to make the day go faster. Even when you could hardly afford it. 

I liked Edith's; it was an old-timey, adults-only cafe, which meant it was always quiet. The manager, Delphi, always sat at one of the many empty tables doing the previous day's Evening Standard crossword or scrolling through Instagram suffering from chronic comparison syndrome.

"Alright, love," she said without looking up when I entered. "The usual?"

"Yes, please."

"Michel!" Delphi screamed, gaze still on her phone. "Beth's here."

"The usual?" a high-pitched man's voice echoed from behind the plastic kitchen curtain.

"Yes, please, Michel," I shouted back.

"How's business?" Delphi asked as I opened my laptop and plugged it into one of their sockets.

"Could be better, could be worse," I parroted the usual response I give anyone - except Serena - who asked how my business was going.

Part of choosing to go freelance was so that people would stop checking up on my work and leave me to my own devices. Sadly, this was not the case."