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Watching somebody exercise ought to be as interesting as watching dirt. Most gyms are largely unappealing places, full of sweaty people wearing too-small clothes and often grunting. This is not the case at Sky Sport and Spa, the setting of the six-part Bravo reality series "Work Out." Here, in a Beverly Hills penthouse, the trainers look as if they could get modeling contracts, the clients are often demi-celebs, and if you remember who Jody Watley is, you can watch her do stomach crunches.

But the one you really want to see is owner Jackie Warner, an entrepreneurial drill sergeant in spandex, who has fashion sense, a husky voice and a penchant for saying things like "My place, my rules." She has the presence to put the smarmiest jock in his place; you don't need testosterone when you've got her abs. And you don't need to mince words when you're leaning over a client, manipulating his legs into uncomfortable positions.

When one soap opera actor starts flirting in mid-workout, Jackie quickly tells him that she's gay. He tells her people change.

"Well, I don't know if they change their minds, but they just have, you know —," he says.

"Doubts?" she says.

"Not doubts, but — interests in many things," he says.

"That's true," she says, pausing. "I'm not one of those people."

If the trick of a docu-reality show is finding a good character, Jackie's a gold mine; she's attractive in a curious, non-Barbie way and even her platitudes come across as biker-Zen deep. Her supporting cast isn't quite as distinctive. The show purports to show the inner workings of a gym, but these trainers are no less cliquey than high school kids. Rebecca — who did a turn on "Amazing Race 6" — is a pathological flirt. Brian (nickname: Peeler) is a would-be ladies' man who's jealous of Jesse, the slightly smarmy teacher's pet. The plot points follow unimaginatively. Things get interesting when they return to Jackie: We get to revel in her vaguely Machiavellian style of management and gawk at her fights with girlfriend Mimi, a stormy and jealous Brazilian who, because of some quirk of underexplored psychology, likes to bite.

There's something charming about the perfunctory way the show deals with a lesbian relationship; Bravo knows its audience well. Jackie's conservative mother will show up in future episodes, and the themes to be plumbed could be rich.

Still, it's hard not to watch, trying to figure out what's genuine and what's for the cameras' benefit.