Markie's Treasure Chest

by Pulsar

"It's a boy!" I asserted.

"Naw, that's a girl!" insisted my friend Emma.

"Boy! Look at the football jersey!"

"Girl! Look at those legs!"

"Boy!"

"Girl!"

"Boy!"

"Girl!"

And so went our argument as we sat on my driveway that spring afternoon. The 'boy' in question looked like a teenager who moved in a few houses down from me a few months ago. We had seen little of the family since they arrived and so the new neighbors remained a mystery. However, today the suspected 'son' was out changing a flat tire. And I swore it was a boy, for he had a 'Dutch Boy' haircut that hung like a mop on his head and was wearing a loose football jersey. However, his gym shorts were quite short. But then again, he probably ran track or something. Nevertheless, as we sat staring, Emma swore it was a girl who was simply a tomboy.

We both sat squinting for a few minutes. I even cleaned my nerdy glasses on my shirt and looked again. "It's got to be a boy," I swore.

"It's a girl!" giggled Emma.

And so the mystery deepened. Who were those people who moved in? Why was there a police car in front of their house almost every day? And, did they have a son or a daughter? As I tried to figure it all out, we sat and watched the 'person in question' change the tire. But after 'he' finished, he closed the garage door and we didn't see 'him' again. And so we went on about our own business that afternoon.

Several days later, Saturday rolled around. And after the ritual of morning cartoons, I met Emma outside in the warm mid-morning. The air was finally devoid of all traces of winter and truly felt like summer was on its way. This was that one freaky day that comes once every year-- the first day of wearing shorts!

I loved the refreshing sensation of the fresh air on my bare legs for the first time after winter. But I hated my legs! And I had reasons. You see, I was born with some defect in my right ankle and had to wear a steel leg brace up to the base of my knee. I knew people would stare, and I hated it. Naturally, I had to wear a long knee sock under the brace, and so I wore a matching one on my good leg as well as not to look too lop-sided. So there I sat on my driveway again, doodling with chalk in pair of khaki shorts that left about 2/3 of my skinny pale thighs exposed.

Emma, on the other hand, had such awesome legs for her age. She wore cheer shorts that day that barely covered her nice perky bottom. I was deathly jealous of her legs. But fortunately, Emma was a good friend and she always tried to make me feel just like another kid on the block.

But as we giggled, who should appear outside but our 'boy/girl' neighbor. The subject was again dressed in a baggy sporty tee shirt, a short pair of running shorts, and old tennis shoes. 'He' carried a skateboard under his arm and soon began skating around in the street. "See, I told you it was a boy," I said to Emma.

"And what'll you gi'me if it's a girl?" giggled Emma.

"A piece of chewed bubble gum!" I snapped.

"Eeeew!" protested Emma.

But as we sat on the driveway, we watched the neighbor skate up and down the street, even coming to the base of our driveway before turning back. The neighbor only glanced at us briefly, before looking down to concentrate on the skateboard. Whoever this skateboarder was, 'he' was well-practiced as he went up and down the street.

But finally, as the neighbor came back toward us, those wandering eyes took a longer interest in us, before coming to a quick halt at my driveway. With one flip of a foot, the skateboard flew up, only to land in 'his' hand.

"Hiiiiii!" the neighbor cried all the sudden in a bubbly voice. At that moment, I knew Emma would tease me the rest of the summer. The voice was a feminine shriek! I was wrong! Definitely a girl! But even when she stood at the end of our driveway, she still looked like a teenaged 'pretty-boy.' But the details of her legs revealed them to be muscular yet smooth. Her eyes glowed with a girly-girl radiance, yet her hair and sport tee still looked quite boyish in my eyes.

"Hello!" I replied with a nervous smile, trying to be polite.

"My name's Markie!" said our tomboy neighbor. "I just moved in... well... me and my mom just moved in."

"Oh?" replied Emma.

Now, there was something strange about her. I couldn't quite say what it was yet. She just acted a bit unusual for a teen or a young grown-up. "Well, I'm Lori," I replied with a nervous smile.

"And I'm Emma," replied my friend, perhaps a little more nervous than me. "And I see you're... uh... into skateboards and fixing cars."

"Well, sorta," replied Markie. "I can fix a few things, but if the car is really broken, I can't fix it." And there was something else about her voice. She slurred her words just slightly. We could understand her, but it sounded like she had a mouth half-full of food when she talked. "And I play soccer too!" she said. Then, she took a look at me, noticing my leg brace. "What happened to your leg?" she asked with genuine concern.

"Oh, it's always been like this," I said.

"Aaaaaw!" she said with most sincere tone of sympathy. "I'm sorry! Does it hurt?"

"Mmmm, not really," I replied.

"Oh, thank God!" she said with relief.

For some reason, Emma was getting very nervous about her. "Soooo, it's a nice day, isn't it?!" she interjected. I think she was afraid I would get upset over her noticing the brace. But it really didn't bother me.

"Yeah, I luuuuv warm days," replied Markie in a bubbly voice. "I can wear my shortie-shorts!" she practically sang as she tugged emphatically on the hem of her little shorts. "I love shorts days!" With that, she slapped her bare thighs as she bounced about. "Just don't skin the kneesies up!" With that, she kicked a leg out and slapped her knee.

Emma began to almost shake. I think she might have been scared of her unusual behavior. "Well... uh... glad we got to meet you finally," she stuttered. "I think I have to go in now. I got cheer practice later."

"OK," said Markie quite agreeable. "I gotta go play soccer-roo later too! I hope you have fun!"

"Thanks, you too!"

Emma was prepared to leave, but Markie threw down her skateboard and skated off down the street again. "Oh-mah-gawd," groaned Emma as she squatted down.

"Well, she seemed nice," I said.

"Yeah but... don't you get it?"

"Get what?" I asked.

"Geesh! Were you born yesterday? She's was tripping! Get it? She was high! She's on drugs!"

"Oh-mah-gawd!" I gasped. Could it be true? Had I just talked to a junkie? "Are you sure?" I asked.

"Well... she was acting really weird! She could have snapped and killed us or something!"

Now I figured that Emma was over-reacting. However, I began to get a little scared myself, thinking that it might be true. But I would wait and see. After all, she might not talk to us again for a while and then there would be nothing to worry about.

But several days passed. Tuesday afternoon after school, I was outside again in the front yard. Some other neighborhood kids were riding bikes up and down the street or playing ball. But I was just sitting on the driveway watching from a distance soaking up the afternoon warmth. I wanted to ride my bike, but I was the only ten-year-old on the block who still had training wheels and just didn't want to look any dorkier than I already did. And so, I was out there with a piece of chalk again, when suddenly, Markie came riding her skateboard again. There she was in a green football jersey and a pair of short little baby-blue jogging shorts with the 'dolphin leg' hem on the side. She spun around a few times and jumped up and down the curb. She was good! She was in deep concentration as she skated around in front of her house. And so I watched in awe for a few minutes.

However, after a few fancy stunts, she wiped out to my horror. She fell right on her driveway. Even from a few houses away, I could hear a brief squeal of shock. However, she rolled over quickly into a sitting position. Yet she clutched her knee tightly. "Mamma!" I heard her cry out. It was faint from where I sat, but I imagine it was loud. "Mamma! My knee! My knee!" And thus she grabbed her skateboard and limped into her house.

I was dumbfounded! I mean, she seemed rather wimpish for a tomboy her age. But then again, had I fallen like her, I'm sure I'd be screaming my head off. But, I went back to my chalk doodling. Perhaps ten minutes later, there she was again skating around as if nothing had happened. She tempted the very stunts she was doing before with no sign of fear. I felt relieved that she was not badly hurt. But I still wished she would be more careful.

But finally, she began to head my way. As she drew near, I could see a big white piece of gauze taped to her left kneecap. She rolled along the sidewalk, right up to our driveway. "Hiiiiii Lori!" she said in her cheerful bouncy voice. "Yay! You're in your shorties! How cute!" Her eyes were wide and her smile was bright and toothy.

"Oh, hello Markie," I replied, remembering Emma's theory that she was a junkie.

"Why don't you play with the other kids?" she asked.

"Well... it's hard to play ball with them when you have a brace on your leg," I said. "I can't really run, y'know. And my bike still has training wheels. They'd stare and laugh at me."

"Aaaaw!" lamented Markie again. "It's not nice to make fun of people," she said. "It's mean! And I don't like mean people!"

I think I chuckled. Sounds like something my six-year-old cousin would say. "Well, I ignore them," I said.

But she sat down on her skateboard right in front of me and folded her legs. "I'll be your friend. I think you're a nice person. You're pretty too!"

"Gee, thanks," I said nervously. "I think you're nice too."

"Sometimes people laugh at me because I like to fix my momma's car and ride a skateboard," said Markie. "I ignore them too!"

"Well, you should do what you like," I said.

"You're right!" agreed Markie. She paused for a moment, before pointing to her patched knee. "See my poor kneezie?! I crashed!"

"Ouchie!" I said playfully. "That hurts!"

"I'm OK," she assured. "I only cried a little." Suddenly, she shot back up again. "Say, my momma made blueberry muffins. You want one? My mom's the best cook in the world!"

"Uh... uh..." I stammered. For some reason, she was just too forward. However, I still didn't want to be rude or hurt her feelings. So I figured I would survive since her mom was around. "OK, sure. Thanks!"

"C'mon!" coaxed Markie as she bent down and pulled me to my feet. My God, she was strong. It felt as if I had been lifted by a crane! "Here! You can ride my skateboard."

"But... I don't know how," I protested. "I'll fall!" "I'll hold you," she assured. "I won't let you fall."

And soon I found myself standing on her skateboard rolling down the sidewalk as she held me by the armpits. And just feeling the strength in her arms, I felt quite sure that I was safe. And so I held my arms out like airplane wings as we approached her house. It felt as if I were flying! And I was praying to God that Emma was wrong in her suspicions that Markie was a junkie.

Soon, we were at her front door. There were a few potted plants on the porch and a sign on the door that read "Macintosh."

"Is that your last name?" I asked.

"Yup," replied Markie as she led me in as if I were some relative she had known all her life. And once inside, a most pleasant aroma filled my nose of fresh cooking. "Mamma! Mamma! I gotta friend! I want her to taste your muffins, Mamma!"

"Oh, hello there!" said a woman hardly taller than Markie. "You must be Markie's new little friend, Lori. However, I don't think I've met your mother."

"Oh... not yet," I replied. She seemed to be a rather nice lady, hardly the type who would have raised a junkie daughter.

"Well, I hope to meet her soon. I've been kinda busy settling in and haven't really had a chance yet to chat much." And with that, she set a pan of muffins down on the kitchen table. "Here, sweetie! I hope you like them."

"Thank you, Mrs. Macintosh," I said before taking a bite. "Mmmm! These are good! Oh... real good." And I could see why Markie boasted about her mother's cooking. But as I sat down in the chair, something on the wall caught my eye. Then, it hit me like a baseball bat! There on the wall hung a sports metal and a certificate. The letters were clear: 'Special Olympics!' It all made sense now.

Markie was RETARDED!

That sounded rather mean! I didn't say it out loud, but still, it was the first words that went through my mind. But it explained her child-like behavior and her slightly slurred speech. But it didn't show, otherwise. I mean, she didn't have any physical features like Down's or William's Syndrome. She looked like a healthy young woman. She just acted like a kid. "Well, Markie, you're right! Your mom is a good cook," I said, trying to 'play dumb,' regarding her... er... disability.

Mrs. Macintosh chuckled. "Well, Lori, I hope I'm not ruining your dinner. I'm sure your mother will want you to eat soon."

"Awww, I'll be alright with just one," I assured her.

And so we made small talk for a few moments, before I knew my mom would panic with me being gone. And so I told them I had to get home. Mrs. Macintosh nicely said I was welcome and was glad that Markie was finally getting to know the neighbors. "Mamma, can she spend the night... y'know, a sleepover?"

"Now honey, I'm sure her mother wants her home tonight," said Mrs. Macintosh. "I mean, she has school tomorrow, and so do you!"

"Oh, okaaay Mamma," she groaned. "C'mon. I'll take you home on my skateboard."

And soon I found myself flying down the sidewalk again, safe and secure in her powerful grip. "So, do you get robbed a lot?" I asked as we rolled along. "There's a police car at your house a lot."

"No, silly!" giggled Markie. "That's my big brother Phillip. He's a cop! He just stops by to eat sometimes. 'Biggie-bubba' loves Mom's cooking!"

"Oh!" I said. "Cool!" Finally, the new family that moved in was no longer such a mystery. I did not ask her about her father, however. I figured it was their business.

And soon, we rolled into my driveway. Markie lifted me up off the skateboard and set me back down on my feet. "There you go," she said. "Tell your mamma I said 'hi.'"

"Sure will, Markie," I assured her. "And tell your mom thanks again for the muffin."

"So... can you play tomorrow?" she asked.

"Well... maybe. But I might have homework. But I'll do it outside if it's warm."

"Oh goody!" said Markie in her trademark bubbly voice. "Let's both wear our shortzies! You have cute little legs!" Suddenly, she reached down and gently squeezed my slender pale thigh.

I must have blushed. This came unexpected. I never thought my skinny legs were cute. "Well uh... sure! You have nice muscles," I said as I dared to give her soccer legs a quick feel. Her flesh was smooth as silk yet her muscles beneath felt hard as concrete. And so I went into the house and she went home. I felt a strange tingling through my body, as if for the first time in my life, I felt sexy!

That evening, I told my mom all about my encounters with Markie and revealed the mysteries of the new neighbors. Mother listened with interest. However, she seemed a little concerned when I explained that Markie was a little on the 'slow' side. However, she said nothing about it.

That evening as the sun was setting, I stood outside with Emma and related what I had learned. "Oh-mah-gawd, she's a RETARD!" gasped Emma.

"Shhhh!" I scolded. "That's mean!"

Emma covered her mouth in shame. "Well... what do we call it then, I mean... she's no Albert Einstein!"

"Well... she's a person, a nice girl. She's not hurting anybody."

"Yeah, I guess she's OK, now that we know she's not on drugs."

And so the next few days passed with casual chats with Markie. I tried to make excuses for not going inside her house. I felt terrible because she was never hurting anyone or doing anything wrong. Besides, even at that age, I could understand that her condition was not her fault. She never asked to be that way. Who does? And besides, she was pretty. In spite of her 'boyish' style, she was rater cute. Her mop-like hair, skateboard, and sports wear did nothing to conceal her beauty. And she smiled like a child, her brace-covered buck-teeth giving her the most innocent look you've ever seen! I guess I just needed some time to get used to her.

The next Thursday evening, Mom revealed at least some of the conversation she had with Mrs. Macintosh earlier that day. Apparently, Markie was born premature because something had gone wrong. She was blue and didn't get enough oxygen in her system, which had caused brain damage. Mom said that she was 21 years old, but has the mind of an eight-year-old, except she's adult in a few areas. She plays soccer with the local woman's league, and sometimes referees for the children's league. She took an interest in cars and learned to fix a few things with the help of her brother. She's very athletic, but only reads on a Third-Grade level, and probably would not get any better.

I felt sad for her. I could have cried. However, Markie seemed like a very happy person and was friendly and cheerful with everyone she would meet. And she always would do her best at whatever she tried.

But come that Saturday, I was outside on the driveway, trying out a hula hoop once I had finished watching cartoons. And yes, I was in an old pair of cheep gym shorts that were tight on my skinny body and left my long legs exposed. At least by now, a faint tint of a tan was beginning to appear.

And soon enough, Markie came along, chasing and kicking her soccer ball in her usual garb. And seeing I was outside, she came right up to me. "Hiiiii, Lori!" she cried. "Oh, cute shortzies! They're really short!" I giggled at her bubbly talk and bouncy antics. Suddenly, she picked me up off my feet. "I'm gonna tickle your little bare kneezies!" I felt her fingers against my fleshy knee hollows. I kicked and shrieked as the sensation of powerful electric jolts shot up my leg, through my stomach and all the way into my armpits. "You're ticklish!"

"Yes!" I cried out as I laughed.

But she put me back down on my feet. "I'm sorry," she said. "You didn't like it." There was genuine sorrow and sadness in her voice. I'm not sure where she got the idea. True, I was taken by surprise and it startled me a little.

"Oh no!" I said. "It's OK. I... I thought it was, well... sweet!" I said, feeling myself smiling at her. "Look, I'm not that pretty. You don't have to lie."

"I wouldn't lie to you, Lori," assured Markie. "I'd never lie to you. You're my friend!"

Gee, I almost cried. She meant every word of it. I just knew she would go to the ends of the Earth to keep a promise. "OK, Markie, I'm sorry I doubted you," I said.

"So, come see my room!" she suddenly beckoned. "My mom's working out in the garden for now and I have soccer later. But I can play now."

"Well..." suddenly I froze. I had made excuses many times of why I couldn't go in her home. But she just said she'd never lie to me. So I must return the favor. However, I couldn't hurt her feelings. I just knew she would never to anything to hurt me. So I figured, why not? She's just a human like everyone else. "Sure, Markie. But I can't be gone too long or my mom will worry."

"Oh goody! C'mon!" And thus recovered her soccer ball and began walking slowly down the sidewalk, keeping the ball airborne with her knee kicks. I walked slowly beside her as we passed the few houses between mine and hers. Then suddenly my clumsy foot found a crack and I nearly fell forward. But fast as lighting, her hand caught me by the arm and stopped me from hitting the pavement. "Be careful!" she cried as she pulled me back up.

"Oh God! You saved my life," I cried.

"Naw! But I did save your poor little kneezies," she said. "That would'a hurt!"

And a minute later, I found myself in her house again. As she led me back to her room, I saw numerous family pictures on the wall. One that caught my eye was two kids, obviously Markie and her older brother posed by a swing. Phillip was behind her and she was sitting on the swing with the biggest, sweetest toothy smile you ever saw! She must have been only five or six in that picture in a lacy blue dress. My God, she was the cutest little thing when she was little. But as her age progressed in the pictures, she looked more boyish. However, she still had that that girly-girl charming smile in every one of them, as if she wanted to embrace all humanity.

But soon I was standing in her room. It looked typical of that of a teenager, except it was fairly clean. The walls were actually pink, yet there were several Star Wars posters hanging about, as well as a few soccer posters. "Sit down on my bed," coaxed Markie as she kicked off her own worn tennis shoes. "And take your shoes off. Get comfortable." With that, she tossed her soccer ball in the corner as I unfastened my leg brace. Then, she opened up her closet. She had very few 'hanging clothes' in order to make room for the rest of the junk. "Lookie-lookie!" she said as she produced a large half-built airplane. "This is supposed to fly... when I finish putting it together." It was big radio-controlled plane. "In the summer, we can take it to the park and make it fly all around."

"Oh, cool!" I said.

"My 'biggie bubba' gave it to me." Then, she put it back. Next, she produced a framed pastel-chalk picture that was about two-by-three feet. "I drew this at school," she said as I beheld an impressive drawing of the Lunar Module sitting on the moon with an astronaut holding the U.S. flag. And it was no child's scrawling either. It looked as if it had been done a skilled artist.

"Oh... you did this?" I asked with disbelief.

"Yeah... took me forever."

"But... this is good! Real good! Why don't you put it on the wall?"

"I might," she said. "I call it... 'One Giant Leap.'"

"Good name for it," I said. And so I marveled at how such a childish mind could accomplish such things. Sometimes, she just did not seem like she was any 'different.' I guess I had a lot to learn about people and various mental disorders. "So, where do you go to school?" I dared to asked.

"Over at the university," she answered. Sounded strange that she'd be in college on a 3rd Grade reading level. But then I remembered seeing some 'special ed' kids over at the university campus when I had been there for physical therapy. So I concluded that college students work with her in the special education department. "I like soccer better, but Mamma says I have to read and do my math too." With that, she produced a thin hardback book. "This is my favorite book. Had it since I was a kid. My bubba Philly-Phil used to read it to me, but now I can read it myself."

She tossed it on the bed so I picked it up. "The Star-bellied Sneeches," I noted. "I remember this one. 'No stars upon thars!'"

"You read it too?" queried Markie.

"Well... I saw the cartoon."

"The book is better!" said Markie as she picked it up. She sat down on the bed next to me. "Here! I'll read it to you."

And so, I leaned my back against the wall as I sat on her bed as she opened up her book. However, she gently pulled my legs across her lap. "C'mon. Lay down and relax. Stretch your pretty legs out," she coaxed as she patted my bony kneecaps. Then, she slowly slid both of my knee socks down to my ankles. And there I lay, my own legs resting across her stocky bare thighs, flesh to flesh. And as she started to read, she rested a hand on my knee. She had the book memorized, but still she stuttered in a few places when she tried to read too fast. I tried to pay attention, but as she read further, she began to gently caress my legs with her fingertips. She made gentle feathering strokes that sent chills up my spine and made me legs break out in goose bumps. She made circle motions around my kneecaps that stuck out like sharp pebbles. Before she had reached the end of the book, she was gently stroking my inner thighs that sent tickling jolts up into my stomach. But all in all, I had grown very relaxed and listened to her read with my eyes closed.

"And that's the end," she said upon finishing the story. I was not sure how long it took her to get through the book, but her sensuous touch had put me in nearly a trance. "You like that book?" she asked as she gently squeezed my kneecap.

"Yeah, it's a great book," I replied, hardly opening my eyes.

However, she carefully moved my legs off her lap and stood up to put the book back on her shelf. "Are you asleep?" she asked.

"Oh no! I heard every word," I assured. Then, I gently kicked my feet. "C'mon. Tickle my legs some more. Feels good."

With that, she giggled. "I'm gonna kiss your pretty little leggies!" She squatted down on the floor next to the bed and leaned over me. Next thing I felt was her silky lips tickling my skinny shins.

"Eeeee!" I shrieked as I cringed.

"You ARE ticklish," she concluded with a giggle. She kisses my shins multiple times, slowly working upward. "I'm gonna nibble your kneezies," she said before gently sucking on my kneecaps. I felt her tongue tickling all around. "I'm gonna kiss more leggy!" she sang before slowly kissing my thighs with her tickly lips.

I squeaked and jolted as she playfully kissed me. New sensations were coming alive within. I realized I was tingly all over, but especially in my crotch. I swore I was getting a little wet. But the most sensuous place was the small fleshy part of my inner thighs.

But then she lifted my shirt up. "I'm gonna kiss your tummy!" she sang as she gently kissed all around.

I giggled and rolled up into a ball. "Oh Markie!" I cried out. "You're... you're so... sweet!" By now, I felt as if I was drifting among clouds. I finally felt pretty-- more than pretty-- sexy! I felt as if I were someone beautiful and not just another shy nerd in class. But then, I thought that my mom might come looking for me. And so I slid off the bed to the floor.

Markie looked at me with the widest smile. "You like my tickle kisses?" she shyly asked.

"Oh yeah! Feels good," I confessed. I was going to reach for one of my shoes when I spied a box under the bed. "So what's in there?" I asked as I pointed.

"Oh! No-no-no-no!" cried Markie, suddenly in desperation. Her face blushed as she reached out to protect it. "That's... that's my 'secret' treasure chest. It's very, very, VERY secret," she said with a little nervous. "I... I can't tell."

"Oh, well OK," I said. "I promise I won't look, cross my heart," I assured.

"Promise?" she said with pleading eyes.

"Never! Until you say it's OK," I promised. Of course by now, I was dying of curiosity. What could be that 'secret' to her? But then again, a promise is a promise.

"I'm sorry," said Markie. "It's mean to keep secrets but... I just can't tell."

"S'OK, Markie. I won't ask," I assured her. Oh God, I wanted to know what was in there, but I guess she had her right to privacy. And so, I reached out for my shoe again, but Markie suddenly grabbed my hand. She looked at me with nervous eyes.

"If... if I told you, would you promise to never-ever-ever tell anyone... ever?" she asked softly. Somehow, she wanted to tell, but she was not too trusting with that box.

"Of course I'd never tell," I said. "But you don't really have to tell me if you don't want to." It took all I had not to beg and demand she tell me. But the last thing I would do was hurt her by not being trustworthy.

"It's the biggest secret ever," whispered Markie. "A secret only the best of friends could see."

"Well, you can show me next time if you want," I said, knowing I'd never get a goodnight's sleep until I knew.

Suddenly, Markie stood up and looked outside her room before closing her door. She then pulled her curtains closed. Then, she sat back down on the floor facing me. She pulled me close, forcing our bare legs to rub against each other. "This is sooooo secret, that uh... you can't see it until... uh..." Poor Markie was in torment. Gone was her bubbly talk and bouncy behavior. She was almost terrified, yet desperate to confess something. Then, she began to whisper in my ear. "This is soooo secret, that you can't even open this box unless... uh, unless..."

"Unless what?" I whispered back.

"Unless you uh... take your clothes off first," she whispered emphatically. Suddenly, she pulled back and covered her mouth. Her face glowed beet-red with embarrassment. I gasped at her unexpected words. However, I suddenly broke out into giggles. Yet her hand shot up and covered my mouth. "Ssshhhh!" she ordered. "So now you know why," she said.

I thought about everything that had passed up to now. However, Markie seemed so uptight, that I finally reached for my shirt tail and began to pull my shirt off. I had no bra for I had yet any breasts to put in one. Next, I reached for my shorts and slowly slid them down over my knees and off my feet. "How long is this gonna take?" I whispered.

"I don't know. Not too long," she whispered back.

So there I sat in my panties and knee socks that were rolled down at my ankles. "Well... do I have to take my panties off too?" I asked with a whisper.

"Not yet," she said. And thus she slowly opened the 'treasure chest' box. I couldn't see everything that was in it, but what I could see didn't seem that secret. There was a box of tissues and a small flat plastic case of baby wipes. There was also a big tube of some lotion and a few other things I didn't recognize. Then, she reached in and pulled out a device I'd never seen before. At first I thought it was a large novelty pen, but it didn't have anything to write with or the clicker on it.

"What's that?" I asked.

"It's a super duper, super secret special toy," she said. "The girls on the soccer team gave it to me and said it was a very secret toy!"

"A toy?"

"Yeah, and it takes batteries." With that, she slid in two AA batteries which she also kept in the 'treasure chest.'

"So what's it do?" I asked.

"Well... it uh... it's for a naughty game," she said. "Kinda like a tickle game, only it's more naughty. That's why it's a secret and you can't tell anyone."

"Ooooh! Well, I promise, hope to turn into a donkey, that I'll never tell!" I promised again. "So, how does it work?"

"That I won't tell," she said just above a whisper. Then, she pulled my head close. "But... I'll show you!" she whispered.

I gasped in awe, my own body trembling and my head spinning. "Well... OK!" I agreed.

"But... for that, you have to take your panty-roos off," she said.

"Well... why?" I asked rather bashfully.

"Because... it feels better, silly!"

"Well... OK," I finally said. And with shaky hands, I reached down and slowly slid my panties off as a thrilling rush came over me. I had always been shy, but exposing my nakedness now had awakened something deep within I had never felt before. Then suddenly, Markie flipped a button on the 'toy' and it began to make a soft 'BBBZZZZZZ!' But still, I had no idea exactly what it was for. But I knew I was going to find out.