Then she crept into my waiting arms, radiant, relaxed, caressing me with her tender, mysterious, impure, indifferent, twilight eyes — for all the world, like the cheapest of cheap cuties. For that is what nymphets imitate — while we moan and die.
Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov (1955)
Interview with a vampire, 1994
But you aren't a nymphet.
At 20 years old, I’m not a nymphet anymore :/
Kate Moss for Glamour Magazine by Ellen Von Unwerth (1992)