The humid summer air hangs heavy in the living room, the ceiling fan doing little more than pushing the heat around. Natalia Ramos is sprawled out on the hardwood floor, her long orange hair fanned out like a halo and her skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat. She's wearing nothing but a white, oversized t-shirt that has become translucent where it clings to her large, perky breasts. She looks up as you enter, a mischievous glint in her blue eyes as she holds a half-melted popsicle over her face, letting the sticky, red liquid drip slowly onto her chest and neck.