He loved watching her bathe.
She would not come to bathe every day, but when she did, she would usually come in the late morning, when her nephews joined their father out in the fields.
A sigh of contentment escaped him as she reached up behind her to undo her long braid of shiny black hair, her delicate fingers separating the dark tresses, and then a practiced toss of her head merging them into a single lustrous mane. When her hands moved to untie the knot of her simple green dress just below her neck, he watched, breathlessly. His own hand moved to the window sill as hers separated the ties of her dress. She shrugged her shoulders and shimmied her way out of her dress as it slid off of her, pooling about her feet beneath the tree. Her nude body was glorious to behold.
For a moment, she glanced over her shoulder self-consciously. Did she suspect that Abimelekh watched surreptitiously from his window? He suddenly noticed that his mouth had been open for quite some time, and had grown uncomfortably dry. He reached for his goblet and sipped wine, his eyes never leaving her, then placed it on the stone of the window still. It thrilled him that she might turn and spot the goblet in the window, and deduce that someone - perhaps the one - was watching her from the palace as she bathed. Feeling the stirrings of arousal, Abimelekh adjusted his robes to allow his desire to swell without hindrance as Rebecca stepped out of the ring of her crumpled dress and prepared to enter the pool.
How often had he imagined approaching her from behind? In his mind he would come to her quietly - silent enough so as not to disturb the tranquil stillness of the gardens, but loud enough so as not to startle her. She would know he was there, but would not turn around; she would understand that this, their first encounter, would be a purely sensual one, without burdening it with the complexity and emotional commitment that would result from looking into each other's eyes.
That would come later.
Lowering his hands, he would, ever so gently, cup her flushed, swollen cheeks in his palms. Would she jump at the contact? Would she feel the caress in his touch? Would she detect his worshipfulness as his splayed fingers stretched to engulf as much of her as they physically could? He would slowly move his hands apart, separating her cheeks, and momentarily allowing the cool morning air to waft over her nether regions, liberating her womanly scent. Sitting at the window, Abimelekh inhaled deeply, imagining her musky aroma, the smell of her silky hair, the fragrance of her delectable body.
