I'll say she could. My thrashing right arm pretty near knocked her buck teeth out, and she retreated from my nervous system.
"You know what you did?" I asked, when the pain inside my head subsided.
"Not really, Lefty," she admitted.
"You have a kind of telekinesis. It's the lightest touch of all, but you applied it directly to my nerves. Perhaps you have some unconscious way of stimulating my synapses, making my nerve centers fire. I can't figure it out exactly. But my question is this, can you feel your way all around inside my body?"
She recoiled a little. "That sounds awful," she said.
"I thought you were in love with me," I insisted, looking up at her down-bent features. "Do you really have reservations about me?"
"No, Lefty. I love all of you."
"All right," I said, reaching up to stroke her cheek in time with the music. "See if you can feel your way—lightly, now—down the same path in my left arm."
She could, but not quite as lightly as I would have liked. We played with it until nearly midnight, by which time she had used what I can only call her sense of perception to feel her way through a good part of my nerves and viscera. Some of it was exquisitely painful, but from observing my flinching when she hurt me, Pheola pretty quickly found out how to ignore the synapses that fired pain through my brain.
At last I raised my head from her lap. "You're doing great," I said. "Do you feel tired?"