1962: I at oncetelephoned. The Shades were out, said the cheeky ancillula, an obnoxiouslittlefan who came tocook for them on Sundays and no doubtdreamt of getting the oldpoet to cuddle her some wifelessday. — Vladimir Nabokov, PaleFire
She cuddled the infantbeforebedtime.
I'mcold; can you rollover here and cuddle me, honey?