Ally got off the Stairmaster and grabbed her towel. She mopped the sweat from her neck and face, then went over to the nautilus machines. Ally drew a few glances from the men in the club, but not as many as she would have liked. She knew why, too. Although she was in very good shape, her figure was very much on the slender end of the spectrum. Her chest was barely an A-cup, her butt was as flat as a tabletop, and there was only a slight hint of flare to her hips. She was no Kate Moss, but to Ally, who would rather be in the Anna Nicole Smith range, she may as well have been.
